Drastic Measures
by esie
Summary: Seto Kaiba lost belief in the future. That's one of the times when drastic measures must be taken, certainly. The only time he'll allow himself a belief in the past. All his women, all his mistakes. Contains sex, drugs, violence and even some rock'n'roll.
1. Prologue: All of them

**Note:** This story was written with a completely selfish reason of getting me across a writer's block on one of my original stories. It sucks. I hope you'll like it.

I'll be posting chapters weekly, most probably. All the others chapters will be longer, this is but a prologue.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Yu-gi-oh, nor any of lyrics I use at the begginings of chapters. The authors are I think clearly specified in format _Author – Title._

**Thigs you may want to know: **Contains angst, use of drugs, implied yaoi.

**Prologue - All of them**

_Do you remember me?_

_And the kid I used to be?_

_Not the same I used to be!_

_Oh, do you remember me?_

Apocalyptica – I'm not Jesus

The music is crashing down on him. Sometimes, he wishes he never heard it. It makes him think of things he doesn't want to think of. He remembers all too well. That's his main problem in life, remembering. If only he could forget, truly forget, never think of it again, but his past is always right behind him, whispering in his ears, clouding his vision. He used to try hard to supress it. But now, all seemed in vain. The future abandoned him, and he feels it was for good.

Even his fingers hold a memory of their own. Take the skin, crush the stuff onto folded paper, roll the filter, put everything onto skin, roll it up. He only did it once before, when he was high and couldn't quite refuse learning, but his fingers remembered all too well. He sighs, tapping the table with rolled joint. He couldn't quite bring himself to light it right away. Too much memories are held in that small portion of drug. He knows they will dissolve quickly in the smoke, but still lingers.

That's the problem with all the memories. They linger, they don't go away, and in whole his life, he found no weapon against them. A portion of THC will confuse them, make them illusive and unimportant even, but they will return. Alcohol solves nothing. Work only covers them for a while. Love creates more of them.

_You will destroy yourself if you allow your past to haunt you,_ says one of the recalled voices.

_How can I let go? I just … don't know what to do_, he answered then, and the voice laughs in his head, a gentle, soft laugh. _You must face them, embrace all the feelings in them, and tell yourself that it is past now, it carries no power. If you say it often enough, you will start believeing it, and then, you will be free. This is how human mind works._

He steps to the balcony. A little flame from his lighter brings the substance to life, and he nearly enjoys the pain in his throat and lungs. The head spins; the mind clouds; the body is overwhelmed with itself.

And yet, memories are still there. This time he knew they will remain, for he decided to allow them to. The voice in his head gives another tinkling laugh.

_One day, you will have to face your memories, from the very earliest to the most recent, all your failures, all that you regret, all that pains you._ Now, the image comes to him, the pretty face, the smile on her lips, the shape of them as she says, _Here, have some … this is the best I have. You will see, some things are more easily done when life is distorted, but they somehow still hold stil as it clears up. Anyway, it can't do you much harm. _And he nearly feels the small plastic bag in his palm.

Was that truly so recently? He feels it was so far away, back when life was still in control and the future spread in front of him like a fertile soil, ready to be sowed with his intentions, but now, it is hardly a burnt-out place.

His life lost its course. He saw two ways in front of him, one uglier than the other, so he chose the third, the destructive one. He didn't want to fight a lost battle. Tomorrow, his company goes over to his wife – after all, he married her for just that purpose, so that she will be able to take over if anything happens to him. She will try to persuade him otherwise, of course; one of her purposes in life was to prevent others from screwing their lives, even if she sucesfully screwed hers in the process. But this time, she shall fail. He will make her see that there is no other way. He can only leave his life behind, ease his pain with drugs, and let go.

He used to have everything. He was handsome, succesful, so rich he would be probably able to build another KC tower out of the cash, if he had it issued in small enough bills. He was married to a beautiful woman that loved him; the fact that she will probaly never be able to carry a child again after the incident last year never truly bothered him. What bothered him is that he never loved her back, not the way husband loves a wife. He feels guilty about it even now, at the verge of life. And all he created, all he was working on, all seems in vain for one action of the uncontrollable part of his mind.

He gazes up – her private appartement is on the floor above his, she has it even though it's of more use as a walk-in wardrobe than as an appartement. Was she home, she would come out by now, smile on him and tease him, _What if Mokuba wakes up?_, but she isn't home. She had that habit of coming and going as she pleased, and he last saw her three – or was it four now? - days ago. She probably found a new lover, another one that isn't worthy of the word. Sex toy, that works better. He doesn't care, he never did, while she measures fidelity in feelings, not bodily acts. In her eyes, he's less true to her than she is to him, even though she had … how many? Ten, twelve lovers since they were together? He lost the count. Not that he never had another woman, but there weren't as many.

She knew nothing of what happened during those three days with him. She will be thrilled when he'll tell her, the way no wife should be thrilled when he tells her what happened, that he's fallen in love, that they kissed, and he could nearly see her crest-fallen face as he'll tell her that he must die now, that there is no other way. Sometimes he allowes a small thought to exist, that things would be different if she was there, her perpetually optimistic mind would make something up, but it didn't matter anymore. He's made his decision.

But she will apprecate what he'll tell her next, that he decided to sweep his hauning memories away. After all, he did find love after all those years; it was only right that he does away with all past experiences on the matter, so that he will at least go with clear consciousness.

And he'll tell her that she was right all along about him. Then, she will cry. She does love him, after all, even if it's in that twisted way of hers. She loves him the way the traveller loves a home – a place to return to, not a place to stay forever at, and she respects that he never quite felt the same. Now, she will remain homeless. No man to return to. A happily-ever-after broken to dust. She'll have to take over a company she thinks way too dependent on the CEO, because that is his way of leading, while her way is more along the lines of 'go manage yourself, and if I catch you cheating, I throw you out the window, and I mean it'. She'll cry her eyes out, certainly, and she'll be snappy for days, but she'll get over it. She always does, that's her way. A survivalist.

Then, he will let her go. She will have to become past, the way all of them will have to become past.

All the screaming fans, slutty hired escorts, shy schoolmates, hot one-night-stands, and even her, the woman of his life, for the person he fell in love with wasn't a woman.

So, he must do away with them now.


	2. Jade

**Note: **There it goes, the first true chapter. Perhaps a warning about the changes made to the original story:

Kaiba inherited the company at the age of 17 and a bit, while most of the storyline happens when he's 20 or more. Ages of other characters were also changed, I'll warn about it when they appear.

Presence of original character changes some of the story, but not yet in this chapter.

**Disclaimer** was posted in the prologue. If you're still interested, go there read it. I only own my original characters, Jade and Laria.

**Things you may want to know: **MajorOOCness, mild language, drugs.

**Jade**

_I was only seventeen, _

_I fell in love with a gypsy queen_

_She told me – hold on!_

Uriah Heep – Gypsy

It wasn't entirely true. Jade was no gypsy queen, but he came to think of her this way. Jade was a mistake. But he was seventeen, and when will one make mistakes if not then?

She was a hired escort. He just didn't want any slutty schoolmate or, as a matter of fact, any girl he'd be truly acquainted with to be his date when he needed one for the formal occasions where one is just expected to appear with a girl, even if it was his mother. So he hired them, different one every time, to avoid getting any to know too well or even grow fond of. But Jade was a bit different to the others. For one thing, she was smart; unlearned, but intelligent. Then, she was pretty in a gentle doll-like way, with long pearly blonde hair, porcelain skin and bright indigo eyes. She wasn't the type of woman that would catch his eye instantly, she looked too fragile for his tastes, but she quickly inproved the first impression. Their first evening, they talked of mathemathics in computer science and she seemed to love every piece of knowledge he could give, and he felt flattered by her desire to know, and to know it from him personally.

"How come you never investigated such things?" he asked. "You have the internet, you have the books, knowledge is not a privilege any more."

She smiled, but only with her mouth. Her eyes remained cool, perhaps a little sad. "I don't have time," she said gently. "I have up to five dates a day. The remaining time, I sleep."

He looked at her incredoulously. "Up to five dates? I mean, most of the parties are in the evenings. You can't have more than one each day."

"I am good and so I am busy," she said stoically. "During the day, I have breakfasts, then lunches, then afternoon walks, then dinners and balls. I have one day off every week. I don't think that's too much work, since I don't do anything but look pretty most of the time."

He shook his head then and started talking of something less important. But in that precise moment, he knew he was going to drag her out of her line of work, make her do something good for her intelect. It wasn't truly a conscious decision; later he thought of that moment as the one when his feelings toward her changed and his crush on her started. Now, he couldn't say he ever loved her, but it was a crush all right.

He hired her another time, and then the third. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but the woman's simple desire to listen to his words was getting to him. He could tell her anything, from bussiness trouble to the new designs he was preparing, and she would listen, ask sensible questions and memorize pretty nearly everything for the next time he mentioned it. She didn't giggle, didn't ask personal questions, didn't try to get him into the bed (at least, not too hard), didn't drink and didn't try to drag him to some club of negotiable reputation, as many of her colleagues did. Then, the fourth time they sat at the dinner table together, she finally dared to ask,

"Mr. Kaiba … you asked me to be your date for the fourth time now, and you never before asked for any escort by name. Do … do you have some special … fancy for me?"

He had to smile. For a woman whose main occupation was shortening the time of anyone who payed for it, she was so shy. He asked himself the same question many times, and, unpleasant as it was, he had to say that he did.

"I like you, Jade. Very much, in fact."

There. It was said, and so gained much credibility even to his mind. She blushed, and it was perhaps the only time he remembered her looking truly happy. He offered her an arm and escorted her to the balcony, where it was at least a little more private, though he knew they'll be followed by at least one paparazzi, and they kissed in silence, only touching by hands and lips. People somehow drifted away and he felt warmly embraced by her presence. It felt so good, so gentle, so fragile, and yet so ... eternal. He didn't want the moment ever to pass. It did, of course, and they returned to the dinning room to shoo away a few journalists, and then to slip away into the night. He felt like in a different world, where everything was soft and fuzzy, and Jade was for those hours the queen of this world, created just for them. They went somewhere else, he's never been there before, but he liked the place, and he liked the taste of exotic beer they served. It was the first and the only time he ever failed to remember what was going on after some point in the evening, but one thing cleared out later.

Outside the bar, when they were leaving, both of them happily drunk and very eager to get to bed, there was a bunch of kids, drinking and smoking and littering the street. He remembered that Jade forgot something behind, so he had to stand there with the kids for some minutes, and during this time, he noticed a trio that somewhat didn't look too indulged in the party. There were two girls and a boy, he estimated them all to be about sixteen, one of the girls perhaps even older. The other two must have been brother and sister, since they both had the same big hazelnut eyes, fair hair and sickly pale skin. The older-looking girl was completely different, her skin golden, her eyes as black as eyes ever get, her black hair a complete mess down to her shoulders. She seemed to originate somewhere from the Middle East. She was staring at him as though she was trying to remember something, or perhaps recognize him. She did seem familiar to him. He once knew a girl with same dark skin and eyes and messy hair.

_She was sitting in front of him then, a big golden and black mess, the high-pitched voice telling him, "Go on, Seto, make you move already!" _

_He stared at his cards, then picked one and put it down. She looked at him, then at the card, then said a little miserably, "Oh. You win again." She didn't cry or anything. Even then, she was hard to be put down. She would have challenged him again that same moment, and again, until she discovered what made him better, so she would be able to deal with it, but ... _

"_Come on, honey. We're leaving." A voice with a heavy accent, followed by a woman in early thirties, fair, slim and beautifully curved, nothing like her dauther at all, with a tensed face, revealing things that children weren't meant to know. The girl pretested weakly, "But, mum, I have to learn to win!", and was taken away without another word, never to return again._

He was a little sad then – she was ugly like a sin, fat and messy all over, and three years younger than him, but smart, and when she was visiting, he got to play finally, because her mother always brought her when she came to visit his step-father, and the little girl needed someone to entertain her during this time. She was too smart and impatient for Mokuba, so she played with him. She was good in Duel monsters – at least, as good as a seven-year-old could be. He was ten then, and could outplay her easily enough, but she was trying so hard, and if given enough time, she would have learned to win.

That girl truly had very similar features to the one that was staring at him across the street, although she was now tall and slim and her hair was way shorter. Now, she was coming across the street, and close up he was suddenly certain that the child he remembered and the girl in front of him now were the very same person.

"Laria?" he ventured carefully.

"Seto," she said in confirmation. "Or, perhaps I should call you mister Kaiba now." She looked at him intently, and it struck him that she must be only fourteen years old, but she looked his age or even older.

"I don't have much time right now," she continued suddenly. "I must just warn you – the woman you are with, she'll make your life a living hell someday. I'm glad we met after all this time, Kaiba. Perhaps you'll want to contact me one day." She handed him an email adress, scribbled on a backside of a bill, then left. He couldn't quite fathom what happened – he was way too drunk for such a complex thought process. Jade returned and they went to his appartement and his memory served him no more.

The next day, he woke up next to her, and he knew he won't be too happy to admit that he lost his virginity while too drunk to remember it. But it was only a matter of pride – Jade was an exelent lover, as he came to discover quite soon after. It took him days to find the folded bill in his pocket, and remember the warning. He chose not to believe it, since Jade was an image of a perfect woman then, but he still secured the adress in his computer, then calmly forgot about it.

He urged Jade to leave her job, to begin studying, but she refused. She did lower the amount of her work, though, so she was nearly always home when he came, and she was waiting. He felt he had no reason to worry about the other customers, she was just too loving for him to doubt her. But he never thought that she didn't have such trust in her.

"Where have you been?" Jade asked when he came home a few days later.

He looked at her with some surprise, then said, "Working. I, too, have a lot to do sometimes. It wasn't even a too late a day."

She seemed to accept the explanation then, but he could see she wasn't satisfied. He could do nothing then, nor ever. She was simply possesive and jealous. It only took him about a month to discover what Laria's warning was about, but something about the woman made him forgive her again and again, even when he wanted to throw something heavy at her just to shut her up. Then, time came when he wasn't bothering to forgive her any more, when he just allowed her to shout everything out, then hugged her and told her that she's a stupid bitch, but he likes her still. As some more time came past, he didn't even hug her anymore. Then, he started practicing cold stares on her and only a little later, his hearth was finally clean of any warmth for her. One can't lead a relationship with someone as jealous as she was, when he never truly did anything wrong.

"Jade, I just don't understand you," he said gently one day when he felt there was some chance that she'll hear him out since it was his day off and he had nowhere to go to arouse her suspicions.

"Can't you just trust me, the way lovers are supposed to? I mean, you can't control my life, as I can't control yours. You can do nothing but believe that I'd never be unfaithful and we'd both have a happier life."

She snorted. "Trust is for naïve people. I need to know things."

After that, he swore to himself he'd never be such a jerk not to trust someone he was trying to live with.

He contacted Laria then, asked her to meet him where they met on that drunken night – he couldn't believe it was nearly two years ago. She'd be sixteen now, going on seventeen, no longer a child, but a young woman.

He waited for her at the entrance, uncomfortably noticing that the place changed a well, and for worse. It was no longer a pleasant place selling good beer, but hardly a place to get drunk, get a whore and dissapear into the night, possibly never to return. He was already intending to find himself a taxy and go home, although it wasn't late yet, but he felt unpleasantly exposed there. He waved a hand at a taxy and started walking across the street, when _she_ happened to him, namely, bumping in him so hard that she fell to the ground.

"Sorry, are you all right?"

He mumbled something in response, trying to discover what made the woman so familiar to him. She was very pretty, with slightly Arabic look – dark skin, dark eyes, powerfull eyebrows. Her hair was cut – or perhaps _hacked_ – short, but it was still the messiest hair in living memory. He couldn't believe such a hair could happen twice.

"Laria?"

She stood up, surprisingly tall, even taller that two years ago, and looked into his eyes. Later he discovered that it was the unique occasion of seeing her picking herself up, not finding himself on the floor with her arm across the neck. She had instincts of a vulture.

"Seto," she responded. "No, really, what demon made you set a meeting in these parts? Are you aware that club has a _nail _in it for people like you? Thank god you at least aren't all dressed up. Come."

Yes, it was Laria all right. It wasn't just the hair, it was her quick mind and the attitude that once met respect and beat it down bruttaly. And she left him absolutely no choice. If he hadn't followed, the club would have probably grown an actual nail and tear him apart. If he was lucky.

She was obvously enough a leader of a gang of four young women, each of which seemed to keep at least one piece of weaponry on them, and certainly knew their way around. They led him to a something like a park in the middle of downtown, where they settled down, brought out some bottles of liquor and began a party of their own, ignoring him completely. Laria didn't join them. She stayed with him, talked of small, seemingly unimportant things, making him feel welcome in the process. He barely listened to most things she said, just nodded and agreed from time to time, even when she perfectly casually stated that she sometimes sells drugs to get through the month, or how she beat a local bully that killed an armed policeman few days before. It just didn't seem to matter; her presence was strangely comforting, and from what he heard, he thought her a sensible, if chaotic and unpredictable person with a few truly strange traits. But sense, reason, calmness, that was what he desired from her, and she gave it away aplenty.

She waited until she was sure that none of her companions will notice anything, then touched his arm and took him away. Whatever she was planning, it wasn't dangerous to him, he just knew it. It wasn't an instinct, he would never trust an instinct, it was knowledge. She was a safe person to be around.

They stopped under the tree some hundred meters away from her friends, and then she said, "You know, I recognised you first."

He had to laugh at that. Even as kids, they were always competing, and her words were like some monument to that time. She smiled as well.

"It took you a long time to break free from that bitch," she said. "She has it in her, to make people forgive her for unreasonable amounts of time."

"You know her?"

"We played together as kids. She's a lot older than me, of course, but she had them Barbie dolls and I did not, so if I wanted to play with them, I had to put up with her. The problem was, she was smarter in some ways, like mathemathics, but she always lacked the common sense. I was more sensible when I was five than she is now. Such people are bound to make life a torture. Guess that's why I started playing with guns." She smiled, but he wasn't sure it was a joke. She certainly knew how to use a gun, even if half her stories weren't true.

He rather concentrated on her manner of speaking, slow and measured, with a hint of an accent – could be French, especially regarding her surname, Rouge, but it was so illusive he couldn't be sure. It was in quite a contrast to her behaviour, which was fast and reckless. She didn't seem to be able to be at peace for more than a minute – right now, she was collecting a number of items from her pockets and handbag.

"Hold this," she said, handing him a folded piece of paper. He opened it uncertainly, but it was blank, and before he could ask for an explanation, she was already pouring some finely crushed substance into the folding.

"Try not to lose any," she said, while rolling a small rectangle of thick paper into a neat, not too tight roll. He thoughtfully smelled the air, suddenly filled with strange aroma that inrevocably brought an image of something immense and green into his mind.

"What are you doing?" he asked. By now, she had produced another rectangle of paper, this time of a really thin one, and was balancing the pre-made roll at the edge.

She looked at him incredolously. "You are an innocent child, truly you are," she said. "Nineteen years old and never smelled it. I'm rolling myself a joint, you know. Remember the smell – it's really good stuff and nobody should go through the life not knowing what a good marihuana smells like. Heaven must smell something like this. Oh, and you don't need to stare at me like that, I'm not going to become some lunatic or something, I'll just relax and look at things from a new perspective."

She carefully took the folded paper from his hands and poured the stuff on the rolling paper, then masterfully rolled it all up and lit it immediately. He was staring at her in something like a shock. Perhaps he should have listened to her chatter more carefully to avoid it, but now, it was like a splash of cold water. Wleecome to the other world, Seto Kaiba, the world where you don't need to worry about the reporters if you smoke illegal substances in the street. What was it that she said earlier? He was certain that she spoke about drugs, and he nodded and agreed, because it seemed sensible.

_You know, I like to see the life slightly distorted. It just makes it seem nicer. But then again, sharp sight is the one thing that will take you through. I guess that's not what that step-father of yours taught you._

"I … just wanted to have a normal conversation for once," he said thoughtfully.

"For that, you chose a wrong person to talk to," she answered pleasantly. "I'm not normal. I'm a computer geek, a hacker even, an indominable seductress, a drug dealer if it comes to it, an irresponsible adopted sister, a fighter feared by street bullies. One thing that I'm not, I'm not acquinted with the police, and I'm not some regular girl. But I can listen to you now, and perhaps the world will seem nicer then."

He didn't know what to do. He pictured her as a child and as that grown-up fourteen-year-old, but the young woman before him, covered in smoke, was someone he never anticipated. He wasn't certain he should trust her – he normally wouldn't. But she carried that aura of safety, and it was easy to give in. He told her everything that pained him about Jade, about her degrading jealousy, distrust, and bark-like voice when she yelled at him, down to the last bit, and all Laria did was smoke and listen. He was so engulfed into the story that he nearly failed to notice one of the other girls that came over to them, her walk slightly uncertain, her eyes misted by alcohol, but with a determined expression.

"Laria." Her voice cut right through him. He looked at her, the displeasing interruption to the spilling of his guts, and he vaguely remebered the pale skin, hazelnut eyes and fair hair. _That must be Laria's adopted sister. _There was a certain similarity to their mimic and manner of speaking, he noted. Slow and measured, that was the way. Women in control of things, that's what they were, even when anything but sobre.

"What is it?" Laria sounded worried suddenly, the stupid drug-induced smile gone from her face, her eyes instantly clearing.

"Laria … Theo called. He said it is time."

Laria closed her eyes. For a moment, he thought that she would cry, but when she reopened them, they were just as reddish and dry as before.

"So, we must go." She turned to him and offered him the still burning joint. "I'm really sorry," she said gently. "This happened at least convenient moment. I cannot listen you out. I can only offer what little consolence marihuana gives. You'll cough, nearly everyone does the first time, and your lungs will burn, but then, your worries will have hard time returning. You'll go home, and your bitches' barking won't trouble you anymore. Soon, we'll meet again, and we'll talk, we'll have a duel, and life will turn to the bright side once more." She sounded solemn, nearly ceremonial. He couldn't refuse her. He _never_ could refuse what she offered this way, as if she clicked something over in his brain to make him do it. He dragged on the burning smoke, and he coughed, and his lungs burned, and his head spun. He found himself thinking, _What, that's it, just a little pain and no effect_, but he nearly failed to notice as Laria took the roll off him and extinguished it.

"I'll escort you to the main road. Mary, meet me at the corner, you know where, in three minutes. We must hurry."

She grabbed his arm and pulled him with her. "I'm really really sorry, Seto," she said softly. "I … didn't think it is going to happen so soon ..."

"What happened?" He battled the words out of his mouth. Tongue just seemed to dislike the idea of moving.

"Mary's father, _my_ father, is dying." No emotion in her words. No forced calmness. Just … emptiness. Blank screen where a full movie of pain should have been.

"I'm sorry." He couldn't think of anything better to say.

She shrugged. "I won't miss him much, so don't be."

He thought about it. "Was it illness?"

She lifted her eyebrows, looking nearly surprised. "You could say that, yes. He was ill, very ill. I could even be happy for him, that his suffering is over."

"I wish I could do something for you."

"You can't." She sighed. They were silent for long moments. His body felt confusing, he nearly forgot where he was or what was going on, just focusing on the sensations within him, and then caught himself and tried to shake it off. It just wasn't natural, to be so indulged with himself. Laria chuckled next to him, finally pulling him back to time.

"Don't fight it. I know how you're feeling, and I know it's damn easy to shake off if you work on it, and it won't come back any more. You've a forty or fifty minute ride with a taxy from here to your place, so take this time and enjoy it." He shook his head, unprepared to believe her. Then, they arrived at the main road and she stopped, turned to him, and said softly:

"Or … perhaps you can do something for me." And she embraced him.

It was a bit of a shock. It had been a long time since he'd been last embraced with full human warmth. Jade just didn't do that, she was never much for touching, and he appreciated that, but Laria didn't know anything about it, and when she hugged him, it was like a tidal wave of softness, fuzziness, warmth. He instinctively wrapped his arms aroud her and held her close, trying to remember how comforting goes, but failing, and she let him go after a few moments.

"I'm happy you've chosen to trust me, Seto," she said, still in that soft, controlled voi ce. "Few people ever do. Perhaps it's the environment where I grew … but it doesn't change a thing. We'll meet again soon, I hope, and we'll talk, we'll have a duel – I've practiced quite a bit since that last time, you know – and life will turn nicer for both of us. There's one taxy. I must go now. See ya."

She turned and took off running. He watched her go, watched her beautifully controled, quick movements as she ran, until she turned a corner and dissapeared from sight, and he wondered what he's gotten himself into.

He got home with his head still slightly spinning. He checked his reflection in the mirror in the hall – he looked nearly completely normal, with the exception of the eyes, which were brilliantly white and shiny black, pupils wide and mad. He was under the influence of any substance, legal or not, for the first time in a very long time, and he had to admit that it didn't feel bad. The reality was curling gently around him, his senses aware of things he never noticed before. Air against his hands, sweat at the finger tips, taste of saliva in his mouth. But he had to shake it off now, for he shouldn't appear anything but his cold self when he faced Jade. He closed his eyes and searched for the sense of crude reality that he knew was somewhere in there, and he found it way more easily than he expected. He couldn't do anything about the eyes, however; he could only hope that she wouldn't notice.

He slipped through the door of the darkened living room.

"So, you're home," said Jade. She rose form the sofa and came to face him, but at a distance. She still didn't trust herself to stay angry if she allowed him to embrace her.

"What excuse have you come up with this time? Work, bussiness dinner where partners are not welcome, or did you just go to drink yourself senseless?"

He smiled, small self-possesed smile that will make her even angrier. "You know, you're actually right to ask. For the first time since we're together, I went out to meet another woman, and to indulge in some not quite legal substances." He turned towards the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, suddenly aware of dryness in his mouth.

"Another woman?! How dare you! And you even tell me about it!" she screamed. She never heard the part that came after another woman involved. She flew towards him with fists lifted, obviously prepared to beat him up. He deflected the strike with single hand and took hold of her wrists.

"Let go!"

"I will not," he said quietly. "You need to behave, Jade. I've given up on you some time ago, I know you'll never be sensible. But I came here and told what I did, the way I would have even if you didn't ask. The woman I met was my childhood friend and she still is. There's nothing else between us. But you're so unsure of yourself and so certain that I'm cheating on you, you'll never believe what I say. Now, I'll let you go. You'll never attempt to strike me again, and you'll behave as a woman of your age is supposed to."

He released her. She stepped away, looking at him accusingly. "Who was she, then, mr. I-trust-you? Do I know her?"

He smiled again. "Yes, actually, you do know her. The name is Laria Rouge. She said you played with her as a kid."

Jade looked at him open-mouthedly. "You went out with Laria Rouge? Are you out of your mind? She's nothing but a street rat, she was even when I knew her! Both her parents were addicts, and she's no better that them! What did she do, sold you some crack or perhaps sold you herself? Oh, you should have seen her with those cards of hers, all the cruelty with which she beats people to dust! She makes them believe they can't lose any more, and then she laughs at them as she defeats them and humiliates them! She's a devil in the human form, you idiot! How can't you see it?"

He shrugged. "I've heard she's good, yes. Anyway, I'm better, so no worries. She a good conversationalist, and she is trustworthy, which is more than you'll ever be, my dear. Now, I think this topic is concluded. I'll go to sleep, if you don't mind."

She couldn't do a thing. She was yelping at him constantly, until they lay down, and then a little more, but she couldn't change a thing, not even herself.

He met Laria again soon. He asked her about her father, how were they without one parent, but she didn't want to talk about it. She seemed fine, happy and calm, the way he trusted her to be after another few times they met. He quickly found that he treasured the moments with her. Her messy hair, her wild eyes, her profane way of dealing with world. She was pretty that night when he met her again, and grew beautiful during the years after that. He couldn't quite fathom what made him feel safe about her, however. She had always been a chaotic person, unpredictable to the bottom, and had that habit of dealing with trouble phisically. You couldn't beat it up, you slept with it, or vice versa. Sometimes, it also helped to hack into their computer and made it go all wrong, but that wasn't as much fun, because she couldn't see the owner's face when it happened. Or, if the trouble was very persistent, you challenged it to a duel, and made it bite the dust, for she was unofficially the best. That is, she never in her life attended a tournament, but she sought the champions out and defeated them. They played often enough, and he found he was hardly her equal, winning every other duel or so. She made him try harder, for he wasn't going to be the second to some girl, three years younger than he was, that had never participated in a tournament. She didn't care about being the best or anything – her only goal was to push the face of the opponent into the dust, and laugh at him. She pushed Kaiba to be better than she was, because she was the best in a way that even world champions couldn't deal with. Later, when he returned from Duelist Kingdom, he felt somewhat sorry that she hadn't been there with him, because he would just love to see the look on Pegagus' face if he ever tried to read her mind. There must have been a nest of pervert memories, seductive thougths (she was _always_ thinking about ways of seducing the person right next to her, he found it quite stressing at times) and cynical comments, armed with diamond-hard will and determination to crush mountains. Hell, it would be mortally dangerous to try to extract her current strategy out of everything. She always seemed to win by sheer chance, and it took him years to learn better. He was the best, and she was just a high-school student with a bit of luck. Probably, at least.

He became world champion somewhere then, but he still couldn't beat her more than once in a row. Whatever he tried, she always got around it the next time they played. Sometimes, it felt like a living hell to be around her, but not the living hell Jade put him through, but a more innocent kind. Laria never meant anything bad to happen to anyone. She was just … good of heart. Evil, cynical, tough survivalist, but way too smiling to be bad. When she wasn't smiling, she was laughing, grinning, or looking amused. He just liked her company. She made him feel safe, even when he was down on his face at the brink of tears because of the humiliating defeat she just brought upon him. For the safety she provided, he could allow himself to be open around her, but it also made him build high walls around himself when he wasn't. He couldn't let people glimpse the fact that he wasn't so cleanly the best as he wanted to be. Laria was there, and although he knew he'd miss her sorely if she ever left, he also wanted her to be gone, so that he could be the best in peace.

He forever regreted the day that he finaly won three duels in a row against her, calling her a fool in the fashion he acquired by then. She didn't respond immedately. She looked into his eyes, she truly looked at him, and she said:

"Well, I guess that's it."

Then, she collected her cards, left without a word, and he didn't hear from her for many months. It was one of what she called 'drastic measures'. She had to show him he had hurt her deeply, and he felt sorry nearly instantly after he had said it, but it was no use. It was the fourth way of dealing with trouble. You couldn't beat it up, you couldn't sleep with it, you couldn't defeat it in a duel, so you left it alone, and you meant it.

When she was gone, he finaly decided that his relationship with Jade must end, and soon. Without Laria to sustain his feelings, Jade became completely intolerable. But then, Duellist Kingdom Tournament pulled near and the newspapers went in a buzz. Will he attend, will he show the world once and for all who was the best? Fancy dinners were up, many in a row, so many in fact that Jade forgot to be bitchy, because she was saving the strenght for the smiling photos. And at one of those events, his phone started vibrating like mad. He had the strenght of vibration set regarding the person calling, so he knew it was Roland, and he knew it was extremely urgent, because Roland was strictly forbidden from interrupting such events.

"Yes, Roland, what is it?"

"Sir … there's some woman asking about you. She seems to know some things about you, and she won't go away until I tell her where you are."

"Oh? What does she know about me?"

"She says," Roland lowered his voice, "that you lost many duel to her once. She says she warned you once, and that you should take the consequences now, or she can just beat you bitch – excuse me for quoting - up for you. I don't think she would be actually able to do this, sir, since she in a pretty bad shape here. She also wouldn't go to the doctor until you come."

"And I believe she didn't leave her name."

"No, sir, she didn't."

He thought about it. It could be Laria, regarding the beating-up idea, but he couldn't be sure, regarding the 'bad shape'. Laria was never sick or harmed that he would know about, even though she lead a pretty ugly lifestyle. There was a way to find out without going there, however. He remembered her being pretty good at getting where she wanted, especially if it included anything electronic with an USB connection on it.

"Tell her to go to my appartment. If she can get in, I guess she can wait for me there."

He could feel Roland surprise trough the line, but the answer was simple "Yes, sir. I will, sir."

"What was that about?" asked Jade.

"It seems that a very dear friend of mine has returned. She's been gone for nearly a year, you never met her, and I wouldn't want you to. She can be nasty to bitches like you."

"A friend, huh?" She looked at him with full hatred she felt for anyone he ever dared to spare a word for. "And you just sent her to our appartment? I would't call that a friend, dear."

"Believe what you want. You'll never believe me, especially since I think this is our last dinner together. There's someone out there that takes my stares better than you do." It felt good to say this. Suddenly, he felt no need for her presence any more. Laria was probably back. She would amuse him from then on. It felt even better when Jade's eyes widened, her whole body stiffened, and then she screamed.

"I hate you, Seto Kaiba!! I hate you and that bitch of yours!! You will be sorry to let go of me!! I'll never leave you alone, you'll see, I'll make ..."

He thouth better of slapping her in front of everyone. "I bet you will. Now, pull yourself together, repair your makeup, and let's eat." She stormed away, and he didn't believe he'll see her again soon. He only had to deal with the newspapers, and that could wait at least for an hour, till the end of the dinner.

He felt nervous when he neared his appartment at the top of Kaiba Corp HQ, the bitch now following him like an angry little puppy, and just as helpless. He wanted the unknown woman on the other side of the door to be Laria, and yet he didn't want her to be. If she truly came back, it would mean he would have to erase whole ten months of his life, but then again, that wouldn't be so bad. Or would it …?

The door was open, so she was certainly in. He turned the lights on, and there she was, stretched across his white leather sofa, and bloody all over. He stared in disbelief. It couldn't be Laria. He once saw her beat three guys at once, the smallest of which was twice her size, and remain unharmed, while the woman on the sofa looked as if she'd had a close encounter with a meat-cutter. His imagination was at a loss as to what could cause something like that to Laria. And yet, there was something familiar about her, something that made him come closer, just to truly see her … She opened the unbruised eye, and smiled weakly. Her jaw must have been broken, by the looks of it, but miraculously, she still had all her teeth.

"Hey, Kaiba," she whispered, and the voice was certainly Laria's. "I hope I haven't made you too much of a mess, I was so tired … You do have quite a smart door, though, I needed nearly twenty minutes to get in." She tried to yawn, but flinched with pain.

"Laria … What happened to you?"

"I've been in a fight. More than one, as a matter of fact. But it's over now. They are out of my way, forever." She smiled her pained smile again, and slowly pushed herself upwards. He noticed at least one of her limbs must have been broken, but she didn't seem to feel it. She rose to her feet completely before collapsing into his arms.

"Damn, I hoped that thing would hold until you came," she whispered.

"What? A painkiller? That should have been strong," he responded.

"It was, believe me." Her voice was now hardly a murmur. He took her in his arms and lifted her. She was shockingly light as he carried her down to the medical centre, and he stayed with her until doctors confirmed that she was out of mortal danger. She had a broken leg, jaw and three ribs, disjoint shoulder, badly bruised eye and most of the body, and was generally very weak. Her body showed signs of constant abuse that lasted for months, she was covered in half-healed injuries, mostly just bruises, except for two old, scarred bullet wounds.

"She must have last eaten days ago, except for the drugs," the doctor told Seto. "Most of the injuries are about three days old, beginning to heal on their own, so she must have been about with them all this time, taking strong opiates to ease the pain. I don't think she developed an addiction though – there are traces of many different drugs in her blood, so she must have taken something else each time to prevent it. She'll be fine in a matter of weeks. About the older wounds, they seem to be healing fine, but there are signs that she got the bullets out with a knife or something like it, most probably herself. When she awakes, we'll see if there are any psychological consequences of the pain and efforts."

Seto nodded. He wondered what happened to her, but what worried him more were his own feelings. Something stirred deep within his body when he held her in his arms, so fragile, so weak. Her skin was warm and soft, and she held to him tightly, as if she would be letting go of life together with him. He noticed the shape of her body for the first time, slim yet feminine, and as he held her, he was acutely aware of her closeness. They have barely touched before, except for shaking hands or occasional mock fight, with the exception of the hug on their first evening, and the thought of her body, so close to him, never even crossed his mind. Laria was a friend, and he wanted it to stay this way. Emocionally, he certainly felt nothing but deep relief that she was all right, and on the slightly deeper level, gentle fondness for her. It was nothing like the maddening feelings he had felt for Jade at the beginning, when he had been mostly out of control of his body and mind. But what he felt as he carried her was well out if his control as well, and he didn't yet want to name it, though the word was burning at the edge of his mind.

Desire.

Jade was waiting for him, sitting at the kitchen table, looking torn between rage and saddness. She looked up as he came in, and she whimpered a bit, so that fresh tears showed in her eyes, and she said,

"What was that all about? Who is she anyway?"

"She's your old friend, Laria Rouge. I think she'll be staying down in the medical centre for a while. I've no idea what happened to her, though; we had no contact for quite a few months."

"So … she'll take my place now."

He sighed. "You just can't take the fact that I can make a normal, friendly relationship with a girl, can you? I'll take care that she heals all right, and then I'll send her back to her place. If she has nowhere to go, I'll give her the spare appartement. But anyway, that's nothing to you now. You'll pack your things and leave by tommorow evening. I can arrange a lift for you if you want, wherever you want to go, and I want to hear nothing from you, ever again. Is that clear?"

She cried, she accused him of unnecessary cruelty, she pleaded for mercy, but he was adamant, and finally, she gave up, crawling away like a worm she was reduced to.

"Once, I've heard a saying," he told her back. "One glass of wine shortens your life for an hour, one cigarette for a day, one sleepless night for a week, but one woman can shorten it for nearly three years."

The next evening, she was gone.


	3. Laria

**Note: **If anyone is reading this, sorry about the late update. I kind of a forgot to do it yesterday, I had a bit too much sleeping to do to remember about it :).

There, the whole first season with Laria around is done away with. She changes nothing, I just thought I'd mention it going past, since she becomes quite more important later.

**Disclaimer** was posted in the prologue. If you're still interested, go there read it. I only own my original characters, Jade and Laria.

**Things you may want to know: **MajorOOCness, sex.

_Come out, come out wherever you are  
So lost in your sea  
Give in, give in for my touch,  
For my taste, for my lust_

Nightwish – Ever Dream

Laria got out of the bed as soon as she got her leg in a plaster and her shoulder allowed her moving more than an inch at a time, which was the next day. She was still weak, taking the infusion bag around with her, wailing from time to time when someone happened to as much as touch her, but she refused any further painkillers. Seto found her activeness hard to believe, but he saw it with his own eyes as she came to his appartement and happily shooed Jade out of her way, completely ignoring the woman's pained expression. She sat on the freshly cleaned sofa and asked for food.

"The doctor said I should't eat anything heavier than some apple or bakelite, but I'm really hungry," she explained. "That infusion might keep me alive, but certainly not satisfied. Now, Seto, I know you have some caviar there in the fridge, would you be so kind …? Thank you, you're so … ehhh, I can't call you sweet, you're the sourest person I know."

She happily devoured some caviar and fresh bread, chatted about life in general, then left for her bed again. She did that every day until she was able to walk again, to run again, and to go away for hours at a time, but she still didn't say what happened to her, nor showed any desire to move out of her sickroom. He had to ask. He invited her out for a dinner, something he wouldn't even dream of with anyone else, since anyone else would want to go to some fancy restaurant and get photographed, but she was happy with local ethnic food restaurat, Indian in this case. She still wasn't supposed to eat anything too hot, so she only ordered the second hottest thing in the menu, then looked into his eyes and lifted the wine glass.

"To you, Seto, and to the fact you kept me alive," she cheered.

"To you, Laria," he answered quietly.

They drank in silence, waiting for the other one to begin. He knew it had to happen, and would't have her begin with something unimportant that happened to her that day.

"So, Laria, are you telling me what happened to you or not?" It was tactless, but he knew who he was dealing with.

She watched him for a long moment. "I just might tell you," she said, "but you must promise never to repeat it to anybody, no matter how deeply you trust them. It is something that only I can share around, to people _I _trust, and I don't want it to change. Never. Is that clear?"

He was surprised by her seriousness, but nodded. "I promise. I can't do better than that."

"Fine then. The first thing you must know then is that I was raised by a family where the father was an assasin, the mother was a cheap stripper and an occasional whore, and the children – Mary, you met her, then Theo, and me, we were taught firstly what they knew and only later what school and general morality had to say."

He looked at her incredulously. "But we played together as children. My step-father wouldn't have a whore as a companion."

"That was my real mother. I last saw her when I was seven, when she became the favourite to … someone. I never truly discovered who he was, but he must have been someone quite important in the underworld. I kind of a wasn't welcome in his home, he didn't want to marry a single mother, so an arrangement was made that I was given to a family that worked for him, and mum took care that I was raised well enough, only with slight moderation in the enviroment. I was taught how to fight, to handle the guns, to know a good drug or a good poison when we're about it, to be a survivalist … and, well, to do pole-dance. It all came in handy in time.

So, when I left you, I firstly returned to the school and finished it. Now, I'm a computer science student, although I've become quite a hacker somewhere in between. You know the nick, LaRouge or sometimes The Red One? That's me. Don't tell the police, I'd sit a lifetime for all the trouble I caused. The school, that was the easy part. But I needed a part-time job for the time being, because I was out of money, and I seem to have a knack for screwing up when things are important."

"What happened? To the money, I mean. You were quite well-off when you left."

"I … made a bet. I said no-one can penetrate my computer to get my personal data like bank account and stuff. So someone got in and took all my money from my personal account. I fortunately had a different account for school fees, otherwise I'd be in a really deep shit. This way, I only had to find the guy and kick his ass, which I did, but the money was gone. He had debts and I really didn't feel like getting my money back from a local bad-ass drug dealer. I had to find a work, I mean, and I didn't want to work the way I know I'll have to start one day, as a programmer, so I started doing the paperwork for … some mistress I knew."

"A mistress?" Kaiba seemed to know what she was refering to, but wanted to make sure.

"A pimp, if you want it. She was the best in town, never had a case of suicide among her girls, and customers just loved her house. I think she used to be a doctor once, but I'm not sure. I liked her, she used to care for us as children, that's for me and Mary and Theo, when both our parents were away, I mean, before her business became a full-time job. She just knew how to satisfy different tastes, and she actually gave bills for the services. As the business prospered, she needed somebody to do the papers, and someone she trusted too. I liked working for her. She gave me good money and girls were good company. A bit morally negotiable, but good company nevertheless. They taught me a few to-die-for tricks with you guys that turned out to be pretty useful. You wouldn't believe how many drinks one can gain just because people believe you can do them. Anyway … When the school was over and I went to live in the campus, the mistress said she'd miss me as I won't be around as much any more. Then, I went to the bathroom, and I heard the shooting start. I remebered seeing suspicious men outside, I mean, more suspicious than normal. They were sent to kill my mistress, and as many girls as possible, I saw some bodies then, but they certainly didn't get all of them, even though they were all the best men in their house, I'm sure they were ..."

She shook her head, losing herself in the memories for a moment. Kaiba waited. Her story was becoming less believable by the moment, and yet, he seriously suspected it to be true. He remebered the places she took him to, the low-level clubs and secret corners of the darkest streets. She was quite the kind of person to hang out with whores and ask them for tricks.

"I took out my gun," Laria suddenly continued. "I only used it once before on people, but I went out there and I shot them all down. They obviously expected no resistance – they went about the house, looking for anything worth stealing, so I could take them out one at a time. The remaing girls have fled already by then, I don't know where or how. It was just me and five men with guns. I had six bullets at the beginning, and before I shot the last one, he advised me to use the last bullet on myself, or his boss will make me die in a most horrible way. I didn't care too much then - they hit me twice, I was bleeding like mad, but I felt no pain, I was so high on adrenaline. I ran away. I've been hiding, running, hiding again since then, for whole two months, I'd say, before they cornered me. I had a plan for the case. I was carying a bag of artificial blood in my inner pocket and a pill of gentle poison attached to one of my back teeth. It should induce death-like state for about two days, and the risk seemed worth taking since I'd die anyway if they got me. I wonder though how I could survive with no life-signs for such a long time. I mean, brain is sure to rot with no heart to pump blood through it, isn't it? Anyway, when they found me, I was hiding in some cellar in a back street, and I did my best to get out, together with my two companions, but they were out there as well. So, I swallowed the pill and as it began to take effect, one of my companions stabbed the bloody bag in my pocket in what seemed like betrayal. Of course, the plan depended on the idea that they won't try to steal my clothes, they'd obviously see that there's no wound, but I was out cold, with no visible life-signs in every case. What didn't go according to plan was that they kicked the shit out of my corpse when they couldn't do anything else. I think they then took me to that master of theirs – I'd still like to know who that bastard was that valued his henchmen so that he stretched his resourcess thin for whole two months to get to me. No-one knew the men that shot my mistress down. I hope to kick his ass if I ever find him.

"Finally, I got dumbed with the waste. I was truly happy that the first person to find me was a desperate drug dealer that gave me something strong againt the pain on credit. I used a false identity during those running months, so I didn't have much trouble regaining the real one, and the old one is dead. The debt was payed, death for a death, and I was free to return."

Kaiba glared at her, hardly prepared to believe her. And yet, she had no reason to lie, and by the way the story was told, he could judge that the missing parts, like her feelings and thoughts, would explain much of what seemed strange or unbelivable. She told the tale as if it happened to someone else, and perhaps that was how she liked to think of it, given the hardships she's been through. He thought about the right response.

"Good story. Perhaps I should rather employ you as a body guard, not an IT manager," he said with a small smile. "I don't think I have a person in my security that can shoot five people with five bullets, nor one that would go about regaining his personal stuff with as many broken bones as you did. So, what do you say?"

She smiled faintly, obviously happy to avoid the pity. "Is that how easy it is to get a job at you company? No interview, nothing? Well, I'll be honoured to be your IT manager and finally make something out of that stinking mainframe of yours. No hackers in my territory, I can assure you. But I must still graduate, I can't work just like that."

He couldn't help himself and he rested his hand on hers. "I trust you will be able handle it." She didn't remove her hand, but looked into his eyes and a small knowing smile showed on her face. He felt his heart flinch. Could she sense it, the stir that their touch induced in his body? But she couldn't, it was so gentle even he was hardly avare of it! Then, she suddenly turned the hand around in his and tickled him, making him twitch, then laughed, but he sensed it was forced. Suddenly, she seemed distant and troubled. Perhaps the approach he chose wasn't the best.

"Laria? Are you all right with all that happened?"

She smirked. "I … don't know, really. I feel like I screwed up my life for nothing, I should have run back then, not fight, but I was in shock and I knew they killed my mistress, so they had to die as well, and I just shot them all down. I've never thought I can be so … thoughtless. I feel like I can't care about myself."

He stared at her incredulously. "You are fine with the fact that you killed five people, but can't take the fact that you reacted instintively?"

She shook her head. "It's not like that, Kaiba. I just gave an example. The fact is that I can't take the easy way, I must rush at the danger and face it close up. I nearly died this time. Maybe I won't be as lucky again." She lifted her eyes. "It wasn't like that when you were around, you know. I spent time with you instead of devising a catastrophe."

He thoughtfully watched her. She was never down, never in his living memory, but even that fortress obviously fell. He thought he should start running now – he didn't need a woman to cling to him, to suck on his power so she could live. She just said she needed him to make her life bearable. But … then again … that was Laria. She just had to clean things up in her head, and things will return to normal. He carefully took her hand and squeezed it.

"You'll be fine," he said. "Now you know the source of the problem, so you can work on it."

She gave a wet smile. "You just can't give comfort, can you?" She sighed and retrieved her hand. "I guess I will be fine, yes. I have a job and I hope you can arrange an appartement for me before I get myself a new one. Pretty please?"

"You can stay."

She nodded. "Now, all I have to do is not get bored with life. I guess I can manage this."

He nodded. "Just one more thing I wish to know. What happened to your parents?"

She shrugged. "The real ones, you mean? The adopted ones are dead, mom died a year of so before the father. Mary and Theo are working, I think. Last I saw of them, they were fine. Theo was even one of those guys that helped me with running. But my true parents? I don't know. My mum was a high class whore that liked to call herself a 'hired escort' and allow rich people to maintain her. One of those people was also my father, a real rich Arab sheik, who promised to marry her if she bore him a son, and he drove her away when I was born. At least, that's what she told me. He must have been an Arab, though, for I have his looks. Mum was carrying me around with her ever since, which is how you and I got to play then. Then, she met that guy that would have her, but not me, and they married. He must have been some mafia boss of something. The family I grew up with worked for him. Mum took care we could live well enough, and provided money for my education, but I never saw her again."

He nodded, satisfied with the explanation, and the topic was concluded. For the rest of their dinner they talked of meaningless things, simply happy to be there together and in one piece.

The month that followed could be called both the best or the worst in Kaiba's life. He had Laria around the corner any time, since he allowed her to stay in a spare appartement that he had for the case of having a guest once in the future, and she was her usual self, making him wish she never existed and giving him the time of his life at once. She dealt him many painfull defeats, which didn't make his life easier, but didn't stop him trying, for he defeated her before and would again, there was no doubt of this.

Then, that fateful day came when he spotted the fourth Blue-eyes white dragon and then lost to Yugi. His mind went into a strange state of shock where everything seemed possible, where defeat didn't hurt, where world was lead on by different rules. He came to his appartement, where Laria was already battling with his kitchen, preparing a luscious meal and leaving only ruins behind. He ate what she prepared, and it was really good – she rarely bothered to cook, but when she did, she did it with whole hearth and soul and a jar of unknown spices. With Mokuba trailing along, she made a whole drama about it, and then about cleaning out as well. Finally, she was done, she shooed Mokuba to the bed, and came to sit across the table from him.

"Now, tell me, what's bothering you? You hardly said a word the whole evening, and you look somewhat dreamy. Mokuba said you lost a duel to some Yugi, but you usually didn't lose the will to live from that, I mean, you wouldn't be alive any more in that case."

He looked at her, her face somewhat amusedly worried, hair standing spikily all about her head. She was wearing one of his old coats that was still way too big for her and its collar was reveiling most of her bare shoulder, and he felt the stir at it, but that wasn't what he wanted. He needed something to beat down into the dust, something that would scream and pray for mercy and fight back in vain.

"Let's duel. Like, right now. Don't bother about the hologram arena, I want to do it here and with no-one to see. Prepare to bite the dust."

She was surprised, he could say, but didn't counter. She retrieved her cards and they began playing. He was so aggressive that she could hardly launch an attack, never completely recovering from the last one before he stroke again. He grew more lively during the duel, throwing his full anger and frustration at her, but she didn't even flinch. She seemed to be waiting for something, and then, after another succesful attack of his, he triumphantly yelled at her,

"Even if you stripped naked to distract me, you wouldn't be able to win this time!"

She waited for a moment of two for him to rethink what he just said, then stood up and swayed slightly to a sound of unheard music. She slowly unzipped the coat she was wearing, revealing a tight-fitting top and jeans, then shook it of her shoulders. He was suddenly very aware that her step-mother was a stripper. A stripper that taught her adopted dauther to pole-dance, among other things.

"Hey, I didn't mean ..."

She turned her back on him and pulled her top across her head, then swung it about and masterfully threw it directly at his head. As he regained his sight, she had already spun about and was now stripping off her jeans, her hips cirkling slightly. It was truly and act of art to take such slim-fitting pants off gracefully, but she did it and now, she only had the underwear left. It was simple cotton, completely unadorned, but bright red in color. At this point, she stopped dancing. She simply stared at him, challenge in her eyes, and he returned her gaze, but couldn't hide striving for control over his body. What was a gentle stir hardly a few minutes ago, was now a blazing fire, threatening to consume him. He watched in a kind of awe as her bra and then panties came off, and he stared at her, completely naked and exposed, somewhat enjoying the attention. He had to admit that he never anticipated the sight. Her figure was slim yet gently curved by the powerfull muscles right beneath the skin. But what shocked him most were the scars and half faded bruises all over her body – no longer a body of an irresistible seductress, but a body of a fighter. He spoted two small, round bullet scars, one in the soft tissue where arm met with torso, and another at the side of her belly – pretty, slightly rounded belly. Pretty, quite more rounded breasts and hips. Sharp cut-scars across the lower part of the cleavage, long remnant of a scratch on the left thigh. No, when he thought about it, she still had an irresistible body, scars and bruises only accentuating it. She was a fighter. She has just overrun his last line of defence. He lowered his gaze at his cards and tried to remember the strategy he devised, but failed spectacularly. He heard her soft steps as she came around the table.

"Perhaps you should think twice what you say to me," she whispered in his ear, lips nearly touching it. "Whose game is that now? Who's winning?"

He turned just slightly to see her face. She was smiling seductively, but it was easy to see through the mask. Her eyes were glassy with hunger for him. It wasn't about winning the duel, it was about winning _him, _and that was the only thing that could still turn him away, for he needed to win, and she had to lose. He tried telling that to the fire within his body, and failed again. She was so close now, so close, and then their lips met in a fierce kiss. He kissed a woman or two before, but no mouth was as hot or as luscious as Laria's, her tongue firm and yet gentle, her lips soft but powerfull. Her hands wraped themselves around him, her naked body drawing ever nearer, … and she suddenly let go.

"Take that off," she commanded, out of breath, and pulled his coat off him, tore the shirt open, kissed his torso all over. He tried to bring her back up, he wanted to kiss her more, but he feared grabbing her too hard. She pulled back again, eyes shining madly, and she whispered,

"Please, don't worry, you can go rough on me ..."

Whatever else she wanted to say was lost to his firm grip across her face. He pulled her close, kissing her fiercly, forcing his teeth into her lower lip till he tasted blood. She gave a low cry, but didn't pull away. He relished in unexpected victory. He bit her again, her blood sweet in his mouth, her pain comforting him. He could have her, take her, she belonged to him to do whatever he wanted, and he wouldn't allow her to pull away.

Her strenght shocked him as she pushed them both to the floor and managed to break the kiss, blood on her lips, maddness in her eyes. She got hold of his wrists, pinned them to the floor above his head, making him feel helpless, then sank her teeth in skin on his neck. He bellowed, but couldn't resist the strange mixure of pain and pleasure that enveloped him. She lifted her head, watching him squirm, pervert pleasure shining from her face, then kissed him again. He pulled his wrists from softened hold and grabbed her breasts, enjoying their soft, round shape, then nudged at hardened nipples. She breathed a curse and pulled back to offer him full reach. He grabbed her harder and she cryed, more pleasure than pain in her voice.

"That's it, do that again," she breathed, but he wanted her to squirm now. He pushed her down and envelopped her nipple in his mouth, bitting it hard. She yelped and twitched, but couldn't stop him. Now, he had her beneath him, at his mercy, and he slipped his hand between her legs. She gave a small voice of suprise and struggled, but he used his full weight to press her down, and she couldn't escape the pain and the pleasure he was inducing in her. She wriggled, she yelled, her face bloody and flushing, eyes completely blank. He didn't stop, not until he felt the tension within her reaching for its peak, but then he let her go, so that he could make her wait a little longer, and the look she gave him was that of a pure hatred.

"That was evil!" she spat. She shook him off brutally and took hold of his belt with both hands, opening it in a practised move, dealing with pants as if they never were there, and took hold of his member with one hand while deflecting his weak attempts at getting the control back with the other.

"You are aware I could bite it off right now," she said, then took it into her mouth, deep down. A cry escaped him as her throat gave way and the tip of her nose touched his belly. Now, he was the one to wriggle, to cry for mercy, to curse under his breath, and she took mercy on him. He came with a scream, suddenly aware that that was only the beginning. She rose, made a mocking triumphant dance that gave him a full view of her again, of all her scars and bruises and perfect curves, making him wish for her to die some really painful and probably pleasurable death, preferably of his doing. He jumped to his feet, startling her completely, took hold of her and put her on the table, in the middle of their cards and everything, and he fucked her with no mercy or feelings or regrets, only so that he could say that he won in the end, but even during the act he knew that it was in vain, for she enjoyed it way too much.

And finally, they lay together on the floor, wrapped around each other against the cold, partially covered in Laria's blood that was still dropping from her bitten lip, feeling somewhat stupidly close to each other after all the brutality they showed just minutes ago. Laria brushed a kiss against his arm that just happened to be there, and gave a purr of satisfaction. He thoughtfully traced the lines of her body, her scars, outlines of the bruises. She winced as he touched her ribs.

"It still hurts?" he asked, surprised.

She nodded. "All of them do. Some will never quit, I believe. Look." She showed him her back, and he noticed a round scar an inch from the backbone, well beneath the ribs.

"The bullet went through and through," she explained needlessly. "That one will hurt forever. It's healed, and well so, given the time it had to do it, but it hurts sometimes regarding the weather."

He shook his head. "You've been running about with that wound for months. What are you made from, iron?"

She laughed. "No, if it was iron, you'd break your teeth on my lip." She sucked on the blood. The silence lenghtened, and when she decided that he's not going to apologize, she said,

"Kaiba … does that mean we're lovers now?"

He thought about it.

"I'm not doing any relationship things," he said darkly. "I don't want to go out, woo about you or sigh about the sunsets. And I don't love you." _I don't even feel for you what I felt for Jade, the word lover just sounds so wrong with you … and yet, you're already something she'd never been. _But he kept those thought for himself.

She nodded. "I don't think I love you either. But I'd feel deprived if I couldn't sleep to you sometimes – it was real good, although you could avoid biting my lip in half next time. I'll scar, you know. My face never healed so well."

He smiled and held her close. "I believe that could be arranged." He turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "Laria … Have you been planning this? To fuck me?"

She probably shook her head. Her hair brushed his side. "No, I haven't been exactly planning. At least, not more intensely than I plan it with anyone at least remotely attractive. But I don't know, when I noticed your desire for me, I felt it as well, and I just gave in to it. I think … It had to happen sometime. There was so much friction between us, I could only wait for it to start burning. It's the only way to release it."

He nodded, deep in thoughts. "So, it's nothing personal really. We can still be friends."

She turned in his hug and offered him a hand in mock introducing gesture. "Hello, Mr. Kaiba. I am Laria Rouge, your new fuck-friend."

He laughed. "That I can live with. Now, let's do that 'fuck' part again, shall we?"

She lifted herself to the full height, then sat down on his chest. "Certainly," she murmured. "Only, this time forget how painfully you lost and don't be so aggressive out of frustration. We've still a game on there, so we can focus on sex, right?"

He rolled his eyes. "Right. Whatever."

They never finished the card game, since the table could be used in much more pleasurable ways than playing cards.

Next days felt strange. Kaiba never felt so full of energy, yet so exhausted, but he also never had as much sex as he did now. He couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or not. For Laria, he was certain she loved every minute, especially the ones when he curled into a ball and refused to move, because he could't take her any more. Her libido was unsatiable, but he could make her lose control just as she could do it to him, and soon that became their game. Who shall prove to be the stronger, the cooler one? Who shall seduce whom?

"That's what we're like," Laria observed, "All we do between us is a game, an eternal power struggle, and we just can't take it seriously."

She was only slightly dissapointed when he dropped out of Duellist Kingdom Tournament, saying sarcasically that "he shouldn't pay her well-being so much mind", although she knew the real reasons behind his decision. She could forever tease him about it. But then he just packed his things and left, only leaving a note behind.

"You can't expect me to do this! I'm a computer technician, not an economist, and all I want in my life is make your mainframe real good and care for it until it's too developed and I can't understand it any longer! I'm not leading your company!" she screamed at empty air when she read it. She kicked at the pile of books on economics that he left behind, and went to be angry at a helpless piece of paper. When she tore it into really small pieces, she took the first book and started reading it.

She heard that Kaiba's step-father was always saying that you can't have too many engineers in a company, because you can never teach engineering to an economist, but any engineer can learn economics, and that prooved ot be true. She quickly discovered she didn't really had to know anything, because there were people to do it for her, she only had to keep them organised and busy. It wasn't a way of a succesfull CEO, and the Big Five gave her a trouble she wasn't able to deal with. Later, Kaiba sometimes wondered if it was truly a good idea to leave her like that, when her skills as a duellist could be put to a better use, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. She prooved herself to be formidable bussines woman if she out set out for it, and if the rules of bussiness world allowed it, she would be able to deal even with the Big Five. Physically.

Some weeks after the tournament, Laria challenged Yugi and lost. She was fascinated about his skills and they started hanging out sometimes to 'exchange views and play', as she put it. Kaiba wasn't too happy, but couldn't make her stop, and in every case, Yugi wasn't the strangest person she kept contacts with. She had that nasty habit of sleeping wherever and with whomever it was handy for her, and his bed was only a bit more frequently used than the others. One day, she admitted to having a sexually transmittable disease, nothing serious, he should only keep away for a week or so, and he panicked and made her take tests on every other possible STD. Then, faced with the fact that she truly was screwing around all the time, he had to wonder at his feelings about her. The arrangement they made was quite temporary and undefined – they shared a bed quite often, but apart from that, they harboured some kind of friendly relationship, based mostly on constant competition.

One night, when she was asleep on the couch – even if she fell asleep in his bed, he always carried her to the couch, sleeping together was for lovers, not friends - and he was watching her, he could almost bring him to believe that he fell in love with her, and that they should marry and have a happy life, but it wasn't true. As far as he was concerned, love was a hormone cocktail, caused by the feromones of a certain person that carried information on their genes, and a mostly subconscious decision. It wasn't unheard of that a person could influence that decicion, though, and that was what he thought had happened to him. He chose not to love Laria. What he felt for her wasn't love, it wasn't even remotely similar to what he felt for Jade at the beginning – it was still simple friendship, mingled with desire for her body, but nothing more. She was a constant in his life and that was the only thing what made her special. Whatever happens, she'd be there and she'd manage. She was a safe investment. He had no reason to be jealous of anyone that happened to sleep to her beside him, and with some surpise he found that he truly wasn't. No love, no jealousy in his case.

In the morning, he told her to take better care of herself – she got him pretty badly worried.

"So, you don't mind?" she asked in surprise.

He shook his head. "No, not really. It is somewhat degrading for man't ego to know that he can't satisfy his woman completely, but you never cared about that. You go do whatever you want."

"I'm not your woman." She pouted in small displeasure, then put on a more thoughtful look. "So, you care enough to be worried, but not enough to emocionally blackmail me into changing the habit. I can appreciate that." She got up and came to kiss him, and that was the first time that he wondered how she truly felt, not only how she acted. Did she develop same fondness, was it all an act just to gain an easy life, or did she even fall in love with him? He couldn't know. She always seemed to act naturally, never holding anything back, but if he never asked, she'll never say, and he feared the answer more than he truly wanted to know. So many things that he never truly wanted to know ...

"Laria? Now that we're about it, may I ask you … How many lovers have you had until now?"

She thought about it. "Do you mind if I think aloud? There's quite a lot to cover."

He covered his eyes in mock gesture of despair. "Well, I guess I've been asking for it. Go then."

She smiled happily. "Now, let's see … I lost my virginity with Theo on my fifteenth birthday … "

"You fucked your adopted brother?!"

"Why, yes. We weren't related or anything, I just saw no point in not doing it. My sweet Theo, we dated for almost a year before our father died, he started working and the relationship just died a slow and painless death, with my lot of school stuff on the head and everything. Then, there came that time when I noticed that guys like me, so I tried it with quite many, just to gain the experience, and to see what I can do. There were … let me see if I still remember all the names … Bruce, Steve, Bob, relatively ordinary guys from school … then that girl, Laura, she had a real crush on me … then Wellington, he was tough to win, but it was worth it, and then Marc, he was the last one before I got that trouble of mine on to my head. He was probably the only one that ever seduced me, not vice versa, but I have no regrets over him. I really liked the guy, we met a few times even after we stopped dating, just for the fun … then, I did it with one of the guys that helped me escape, I didn't even ask the name … then, you came in. That makes seven people before you that I can remember, but there were a few more that I don't because I once participated in an orgy, which meant a lot of sex with people you never talked to. I think another five or seven is a fair guess, since it wasn't a big thing. After you, I had another four, but they were all just for one night at the most, three of them only for a few hours in fact. Yes, that should be it. Twelve lovers and about five other people I had sex with, all together. I think I can be proud of myself, I'm only eighteen after all."

He shook his head. "When we met, you said you were an indominable seductress. I didn'n think you meant it. You do use some protection, don't you? I mean, you certainly should, by the way you are living."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course I do, I'm not that stupid. With that guy that gave me the disease, I guess I wanted to finish too quickly to use the condom, but I take pills anyway, so I don't fear pregnancy, just illness."

He didn't know where he got the idea that moment. It was just there, sudden and irrepressible. He mouthed it way before his brain caught up.

"Laria. If I ever ask you to marry me – which isn't too probable, but still – I want you to quit. If I marry you, that means I want your child. Fine?"

She was completely taken aback. Her eyes widened, she drew a sharp breath, and then, just as suddenly, she composed herself.

"Do you mean that? Really?"

He shook his head. He only then had time to wonder where that came from. Did that mean that he felt more for her somewhere deep down, in a place in his head that elluded his consciousness? Or was it just a momentary thing, born from the strange disturbance her confession had caused? But the damage was done, in any case."Yes, Laria, I mean it. Just don't take this as a marital proposal or anything. It's just an idea. It is completely possible that I'll meet someone else and forget about this."

She nodded. She could understand such things, he thought. She didn't care what was the reason behind the words, she just received them and stored them for later usage. "You still don't love me, anyway."

Regardless of what he said and what she felt, their relationship grew tighter. At some point, he found himself smuggling her with him to his bussines travels, before Roland discovered them in some quite embarassing pose and then took care that she had a decent place to sleep did she ever want one. Kaiba tried to keep her as hidden as possible, half for her own sake, half for the sake of the poor paparazzi that would try to catch her – she was prepared to defend her privacy pretty harshly, but somehow, nobody seemed to take interest in her. She was just a girl that happened to play a game with him, no more, no less, and nobody cared that the game was their life.


	4. Ishizu

**Note:** I threw some Laria's POV in here. This is mainly supposed to be a story composed of Kaiba's memories and feelings, but later I'll explain those intermezzos.

I've worked quite hard to keep at least Ishizu in character, since I've given up on Kaiba even before I started writing. I didn't bother much about the Pharaoh, though, I guess you'll see why.

I'm not feeling too much like explainig why I updated on Monday while the regular update should be Friday. I'm just telling the whole three of you reading this that updates are going to be Sunday or Monday from now on. If you disagree, it means I get a review, which is always good news.

**Disclaimer** was posted in the prologue. If you're still interested, go there read it. I only own my original characters, Jade and Laria.

**Things you may want to know: **MajorOOCness, sex, drugs, general immorality (is that even a word?).

Ishizu

_Tell her to make me a cambric shirt,_

_parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme_

_without a seam or fine needlework,_

_and she shall be the true love of mine …_

Traditional - Scarborough Fair

Kaiba never really anticipated that Laria would have a knack for history, rather that she would be easily excited. In any case, she knew about some special exibit months in advance and promised Mokuba to take him there. He wasn't interested. Work was piling up on him and although Laria truly took time to help and to improve his computer mainframe, he still felt unprepared for anything unexpected. Of course, she couldn't work miracles with the university and general screwing about to chew at her time, and he noticed she wasn't too happy about what she had done. She often went about gesticulating madly and mumbling something along the lines of 'that incapable bastard who wrote the security algorhitms', followed by barely understandable jibbrish, half spoken in some programming language and half in English.

However, he couldn't afford having the whole mainframe redone like she believed it should be.

"Look, Laria, I'm enough of a programmer myself that I know what I have. I should have taken time to check on it earlier. No, I'm not transfering the whole system to free and open-source technologies. Us tycoons must hold together." He smirked through the intercom. "Yes, I'm feeling fine, why do you ask?"

Next day, he was so sick he barely had the strenght to lift himself from the bed, but it still took both Mokuba and Laria's persuation skills to keep him in bed for more than the short night's sleep, and even then he demanded a full report from Laria on what happened during the day in the evening. Laria pulled a trick on him then, giving him something that wasn't exactly a sleeping pill in his herbal tea, and even after he awoke, he felt sleepy and unable to do anything for the next few days.

"Do I want to know what you gave me?" he asked her unpleasantly as she set the last report on his working desk.

"Something just nasty enough to keep you in bed, but not enough to weaken you further. You're way better now than you'd be if I didn't give it to you and you'd be walking about the very moment oyur legs would carry you."

He studied the report for some moments. "Listen … were you forging the reports up to now to keep me from yelling at you too loud, or did you make a drastic change yesterday?"

She shrugged. She didn't have the decency to blush, or perhaps just her dark skin hid it perfectly. "I didn't forge them. There are no original or truer copies. I wrote them this so you, as you put it, wouldn't yell at me too loud. I don't think people missed you too much, and I made sure they didn't miss me. I have a university to attend, you know. Perhaps you should just know better than setting a student to the head of your company."

He narrowed his eyes. He felt fury rising in his chest. She had some nerve to say that. Even more so regarding what she did to his company without telling him. "I'm not going to yell at you. Get out."

She didn't move. He found his fury faltering somehow, but his determination remained the same. "Get out, I said. Don't try to explain, I know you well enough, you self-righteous bitch."

Now, she finally turned and left with deliberate slowness. He closed his eyes and counted to some apropriately high natural number to compose himself, then opened them again and started working. Laria could not be expected to solve problems, only to create more of them.

He brought his work home and continued when Mokuba turned the TV on to watch the press conference that preceded the opening of the oh-so-expected exhibition. Laria was in the kitchen – he could hear her searching for some pan, or at least that was how it sounded. One couldn't be sure, for her battles with the cutlery were going more epic with every encounter.

Mokuba called out to Laria if she'd still take him there.

"If your brother is as good as to lend his car," she answered, bringing out the pan she had been fighting for. "How many eggs?" The phone rang. "Anyone?"

Seto picked up the phone.

"Kaiba."

Whatever the caller said, it remained between the receiver and Seto's ear.

"How did you know I was watching?"

"I'm personally inviting Seto Kaiba to this evening's private exhibition. I promise that whatever he will witness, will change his life forever!" said Ishizu on the screen.

The time stopped for a second. Laria slammed the pan onto the cooker with unnecessary force. "Eggs, anyone?"

"Two for me," announced Mokuba, also very loudly. Seto still stared at the screen. Ishizu was now answering journalists' questions. _How did she know?_ he thought.

"Seto? Any eggs for you?"

He finally turned away. "No, thank you, I won't eat."

"You have to ..." Laria began, then stopped and made a face. "All right, I won't play a mum any more, but I'd really like to see you live on air."

"I'll fix myself something later. I can't think on a full stomach, and I think I'll need the brain tonight."

She lifted her brows. "For the exibition? What will you do, memorize complete egiptian history in one evening?"

"Laria." He deliberately nade his voice hard. "You're doing it again. Don't you think that I know what's the best for me?"

"In fact, I'm pretty certain that you don't, but do as you will, perhaps I'm not the one to tell you."

He refrained from answering, and she sullenly went to kill the eggs and serve them before they run away. He'll have to remedy their relationship one of these days, he knew, but for the moment, he was yet too angry at her. She won't learn the lesson, he knew her better than that, but he needed time to do everything she left undone, and to find his calmness again.

* * *

He was at the museum at the time Ishizu specified, and there was no-one around.

"Where are the other guests?" he asked her in stead of a greeting.

"I said it would be a private exhibition," she said with a small smile. _Private, huh, _he thought, then felt a stinge of disgust for himself. Laria taught him to think dirty thoughts at the smallest incentive, and it was fun sometimes, but disturbing at others.

He looked the woman up and down. She was good-looking, if not exceptionally beautiful, very young – he estimated her to be his age, quite an extreme for a scholar like her – and in a way, her looks reminded him of Laria. It was hard to define in what way, since the only thing they truly had in common was Arabic origin, which meant some similarity in facial features and golden tanned skin. But Ishizu's eyes were the color of a summer sky and her hair was a fall of perfect, straight blackness down to the middle of her back. Her only decoration was Egypt-themed golden jewelry, her dress a white linen epitome of unpracticality, her figure mostly hidden beneath it. Nothing like Laria at all. But still … something within him stirred. It wasn't entirely unknown. Thrill of the hunt, he realized. He had every right to seduce a woman, he just never chose to do so. But now, Laria was locked away from his bedroom for some weeks, and he suddenly wanted to fill the blank.

_Oh, great. Now I have a mind-crushing desire for them Arabic types, _he thought. _Must be something about my genotype._

He turned away to hide the discomfort. His consciousness wanted him to leave now and forget that he ever met her. He had a woman at home, true that they weren't on the best of terms at the moment, but...

"We've locked all the exits. No-one is allowed in or out."

Fantastic. He barely heard Ishizu's explanation. He was stuck there. He shouldn't have locked Laria out, he truly shouldn't, he wasn't like her, he didn't just go around desiring women that just accidentally came his way.

"I believe it is in your best interest to see all that we have to offer," Ishizu said. He couldn't help thinking, _I'd be quite interested in what _you_ had to offer ..._

"Kaiba, do you believe in destiny?"

_If it involves you, me and a bed, I could. _He shook his head._ No. What am I thinking?_

"Does it matter?" he said grumpily.

She went into the explanation about the old Egyptian way of thinking, unexiciting but interesting enough for him to follow it.

"... that it was destined for us to meet, " she finished. He nearly squirmed at that. He suddenlly remembered what Laria once told him – _the_ _trick about sucessful seduction is mostly in that you don't allow yourself to reveal more desire than absolutely necessary, for the one that feels it is the weaker._

But he never did this before. He tried to turn her lecture down, even. He never felt so split before. What he wanted to do seemed so completely morally wrong, and yet, he was in no relationship that should matter. Laria wouldn't mind, she did it all the time to him. What made him want to leave Ishizu there, to argue with her, to be so grumpy? And why did he desire her so?

Ishizu just told him to be patient. Patient. Yes, that was what he needed to be. He needed to wait, and to think, and to decide what he wanted.

She led him further through the exhibition, and he was grateful for the silence. He watched her walk in her low-heeled shoes, naturally and securely. She had an air of complete self-consciousness, he noted, as if she possesed a great power and knew how to use it, but rarely chose to do so. In that aspect, she was similar to him, but she seemed to invest the power in some mystical hocus-pocus. He could allow that. Yes, that was the way of thinking. Imagine her to be his already, and allow her things.

She seemed to be prepared to share knowledge about extremely powerful Duel monsters, and he was interested. Suddenly, the idea occurred. He didn't need to act the interest in Duel Monsters, and she seemed to know a lot. So, he coul invite her for a dinner to get more information. Or something.

The shining hallucinations enveloped him with little warning. He saw the past, he saw the origins of the great tablet she was showing him, the tablet with him and Yugi on it, and a woman of little importance in the background, the woman that looked so deliciously like Ishizu, her image was there no matter what, right next to him, so close he thought he could feel the warmth of her body, and then she was gone, the real world came crushing down on him. Ishizu stood a few feet away, ataring at the tablet, oblivious to everything that was happening to him.

Her magic was great, he had to admit to himself, and pehaps he should tell Laria … _no, don't think of her now, you fool! _What he glimpsed were quite possibly just hallucinations – but they were pretty real and coherent hallucinations. He suddenly felt something like awe for her. If it is truly in her power to make people see things, that was a great power. And she was so calm and self-possesed. She took all his insults with stone calmness. _Compared to that woman, Laria is merely a child_, _playing with the world_ he thought. Ishizu was far more sure of herself and although he couldn't agree to some of her beliefs, they were still quite a basis to her stoic personality.

To have her, that would be a true victory.

She handed him the card – Obelisk the Tormentor. He touched her hand when he took the card, and held it there for longer that it was absolutely necessary. She was watching him thoughtfully.

"You will return the card."

Something in those words hit him hard. She was so certain of them, he could almost believe it.

"Does the card have any special abilities or anything I should know about?" he asked, then checked his watch and continued before she could answer. "No, wait. I'm truly sorry, but my time is limited. But you have my interest. Could we perhaps meet another time to discuss this? I have an evening off tomorrow. May I treat you to a dinner?"

She smiled that small, guarded smile of hers. "That is an unexpected invitation, Kaiba. But I accept."

He nodded. "I'll have a car sent for you. We shall go to the Aristocat."

"You do value that information," she said expresionlessly, and he had a feeling it was a part of a practiced act. He tuned and left, without a greeting, the way he had come.

Laria was in his bathroom the next evening, when he chose to start leaving. He frowned at her. They haven't met all day, and he supposed she would go to her own appartement when she returned, as she usually did those last weeks. She turned from the mirror and smiled at him.

"Hey, Kaiba. Sorry I'm here, I have a problem with the sink and someone is working on it right now, so ..."

"Don't lie."

She pouted. "It's true. As if I would try to patch us up by coming to your bathroom. It's extremely uncomfortable for the case."

He looked her up and down. She had her night-gown on, a short silk one without any decoration but great cleavage, but she wore it often, and she truly didn't do a thing to rouse him on purpose. She had a tooth brush in one hand. Nothing inconspicious, but he could never be sure about her.

"It is early for your evening toilette."

"I have a feeling I'll have nothing to do but sleep in the evenings. And I need that, too." Only now she seemed to perceive his attire, and she added, "Opposed to you, I see. Where are you going? A date?"

He nodded, and stepped next to her to the mirror, completely casually, as if he did it every day. He chose a cologne and combed his hair and only then, Laria quietly said, "Should I keep completely away for the night?"

"Yes, I think this is a good idea. I don't think she would appreciate your presence, and I know I can't handle even you alone, let alone two of you." He smiled at her confused expression in the mirror.

"Have fun then, I guess," she said, her voice slightly strangled. She fought the tears back, he could see that, and it took her long seconds to compose herself. She started brushing her teeth as if nothing happened, but he knew her well enough to see through the mask. He hurt her feelings, and she was only letting him go because she knew it would be true hypocracy to stop him.

_What's with her? She was always teasing me about having only one woman in my life. Why would she cry now? _Then, the possibility hit him, and he nearly shuddered. _No, I don't want her in love with me! It's not meant to be this way! We should be friends, we should live without such powerfull emotions to cloud the reason!_

He turned away. He couldn't deal with the matter now. There was another woman waiting, a beautiful woman to spend the evening and quite possibly the night with him, and that was the important part. He made his choice, he will not turn away now.

"Kaiba?" Laria spat into the basin and looked up. "Would you tell me at least who is she?"

He saw no reason against it. "Ishizu Ishtar."

Laria's expression gained the teasing dimension back. "Well, get ready to c-rumble," she said lightly, and the lightness wasn't entirely false. No matter how she felt, she was obviously still able to be happy for him. "Go, now, don't make her wait. If anything happens, you know where I live."

He smiled and left her. Sometimes, he had to wonder at that girl or perhaps at that woman. Quite possibly the strongest fortress of cheerfulness in the world, and yet, there was a gentle soul sometimes spilling her hair from the tower, hoping for someone to climb to her. This time, he would not; but some other time … no, now is not the time for that.

The limo was waiting, and Ishizu was there within. They greeted soberly and he sat at a respectful distance from her. They began a comfortable small talk that lasted the whole way, enveloping them with blessed normality. Later, Kaiba treasured those moments – they were the only ones he ever called his relationship with a woman normal.

Aristocat was a fine restaurant, the fact it was named after a cartoon aside. It was always quiet, giving guests all the privacy they could wish for. He usually went there for more formal occasions, like bussiness dinners, but it seemed a good choice in this case as well. Ishizu liked the place and he liked her – she wore only a little more adorned white dress and chose the more refined jewelry, but her strange necklace remained the same. He noted her careful makeup and the fact she wore low-heeled shoes again, as if she feared something would go wrong and she would have to run, but remain good-looking at that.

The waiter appeared, discreet as ever, and offered them the menus. He allowed her to choose the wine, a dry rosé, and a dessert, a chocolate mousse with figs. They both chose a sea-fruit dish, smiling at the similarity in tastes, and the waiter was gone.

He poured the wine and raised the glass to her. "To the succesful tournament," he cheered, and she repeated his words.

"You wanted to talk about the cards," she said as the main course was served.

"I did."

So he asked the questions and she tried her best to answer. She didn't seem to have as many information as he expected, though – she didn't know anything about defeating those monsters, and even her knowledge regarding the use of them had some holes. So the dessert was served, and there was nothing more to say.

"Perhaps you could now reveal the real reason for the invitation," she said after a few moments' silence and licked at her spoon. "You are not a man who would treat a woman to such an elite and expensive restaurat just to get some information about cards."

He shook his head. "Is it such a sin to invite a beautiful woman out?" He felt the words heavy in his mouth – he never tried a sentence such as this before.

She smiled again. "Perhaps it is. I know there is a young woman in your life, Kaiba, and I know she was hurt when you chose to invite me out instead of patching your relationship. But I can be selfish for one time in my life, and choose not to care. I know you mainly invited me out so you could bed me." She licked her spoon again – such a natural move when eating a mousse, and yet quite a rousing one.

He lifted his brows. "And what does the destiny have to say to that?"

She lowered her gaze. "All that was revealed to me was that much of the future depends on the it."

"So, for the one time in your life, the destiny is speechless? Did I insult it with the idea?" He couldn't help a smirk.

She pierced him with a gaze. "There are some parts of the future that are hidden to me. The history is bound to repeat itself forever, but it doesn't go in circles – rather in loops. You can't be certain which part of it awaits you. Sometimes, one decision directs it towards a specific loop, and I believe this is one."

He shrugged. "So? What do you say?"

She smiled quite more widely than usual. "You are no seducer, Kaiba. There are many, many women who would be completely repelled by such a question, even when attracted to you before hand. It just isn't how we work." She seemed to float away in thought for some moments, and her necklace gave a ray of light. Her face suddenly grew serious, even grave.

"Perhaps you should be the one to change his mind," she continued quietly, "for now that I've decided, I received a vision. You shall be the one to suffer most by the consequences of the deed. But yes, I accept. I wish to spend a night with you, and perhaps it will not be the only one."

"We shall see about that." He finished his dessert. "Would you like anything else?"

She smiled again, but this time there was a shade in her face, nearly like nervousness. "A little more wine would be welcome. Perhaps something sweeter?"

He nodded and called the waiter to make the final order and ask for the bill. They left, his limo was waiting for them at the entrance. Kaiba lowered the screen between them and the driver. They sat for some time in silence, then he turned to her and gently took hold of her chin. She looked at him shyly, but did not resist the kiss. Her lips were cool and only tasted of lipstick. He felt that he needed to be gentle, as gentle as possible, and only very slowly he tugged at her with the tongue, begging for entrance. She allowed it, but he felt a tremor in her and pulled away.

"Are you afraid of something?"

She shook her head. "I've never … done this … just like that," she said, like lost. "I'm kind of a nervous."

"I will be gentle," he assured her. He kissed her again, and this time she seemed to get the feeling of it. She kissed without passion, but her gentle touch carried a great weight behind, a weight that stirred the senses more than passion ever could. He was overwhelmed with a simple wish to be close to her, to feel her body right next to him, to make love to her. He would never want to break the kiss, and he was mayorly dissapointed as the limo came to a soft stop. They stepped out in front of the skyscraper. Kaiba noted that the light was still on in Laria's room up somewhere – the only window still alight, and the door to the balcony was open. He looked up, and he thought he saw two shade-shapes in the room. Two? Laria never brought anyone home, and she said she will only be reading and then go to sleep. Whatever. He hurried across the lawn to avoid being seen, but Ishizu stopped and looked up.

"So this is where you don't live," she murmured.

"There are three appartements up there," he said. "I don't need them all, at least not all the time. Come."

She nodded and followed him. He lead her to the living room and offered her a drink. They sat on the sofa, as if embarassed to touch again, and watched each other across the brims of their glasses. He suddenly realised how much they had drunk during the evening, that he was actually pleasantly drunk, enough to warm him, to stir his desires higher than they would go by themselves. He emptied the glass and set it down next to hers. She moved closer to him, kissing him again. He returned the kiss. He held her close. She at one point chose to sit in his lap, and they kissed, sweet kisses, no more lipstick-tasting ones, no more fear in her. She broke the kiss and asked for more drink, and then she tasted of sweet Martiny. He found he nearly didn't have to supress his desire. It grew slowly, but the kisses were a pleasure even as themselves. Then, he reached for her breasts, and she instantly froze.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in surprise.

She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. It's just … " She shook violently, as if refusing something. "Kaiba, I just want you to know … It is my first time. I … I'm a virgin."

Now it was his turn to freeze. "Ishizu," he whispered. He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself, and when he opened them again, her face was hardly inches away from his. "It doesn't matter," she whispered. "I've made my choice. You are a beautiful and worthy man, Seto Kaiba. I desire you just as you desire me. Show me the way." And she kissed him again.

_I can't do this, I can't just take her viginity, this is just so wrong … _But she was persistent, kissing him, caressing him, until he gave up again. He carefully caressed her body, afraid that he might startle her again, but she truly seemed to get over with whatever doubts had been troubling her. She pressed her body against him so that he felt her warmth, her quickened breath, the beating of her heart. He found a zipper on the back of her dress and gently tugged at it, asking for permission.

She got up and stood tall in front of him. "Help me with the dress," she said in low, sensual voice. He carefully unzipped the dress and allowed it to slip down, revealing her body beneath it. He took off her earrings, her head-piece, her bracelets, the ring she wore on the left hand, but he didn't touch the necklace. He sensed she wouldn't want to part from it. He embraced her again, unbuckling her bra, kissing her shoulders and breasts and belly, then took hold of her panties. He looked up, into her eyes, and she gave a small nod of permission. He pulled them down, then rose and looked at her, naked and trembling with chill, looked her perfectly curved golden body, and suddenly he felt like a virgin himself. No other woman he ever saw was alike her. Jade was slightly plastic and very fragile, Laria was a muscular, scarred tomboy, but Ishizu was a true female, gentle, but not brittle, soft, but not weak, her skin perfectly smooth and even, the nipples of her small but firm breasts dark and hardened, a trace of transparent liquid down already her thighs. She sensed the unspoked question and turned around, exposing herself completely. Her back was a gentle curve, finishing in an invitingly round butt. He felt himself stiffen. He never before felt such urge to enter the woman there. He did it once with Laria, there were few things he they hadn't done, but the initiative was hers. He supressed the desire. He can't allow it now, with Ishizu.

She neared him and slowly pulled his coat off his shoulders, removed his tie, unbuttoned his shirt. She took her time undoing his belt and the button of his trousers, obviously nervous about what she was to find beneath. She pulled them down and removed them together with the socks, then rose, looking into his eyes, like he did before, offering him the lips again to ease the tension before she finally pulled at his underpants. She stood back, watching him in kind of awe, her eyes sliding over his exposed body.

_Adam and Eve must have felt something like that when they first met_, he thought. So completely exposed, curious, but nervous.

He was suddenly embarrased of every fault he ever found on his body, from the out-sticking bones of his shoulders to the fact that his member looked somewhat inapropriately big compared to his thin thighs. But then she came to him, embraced him, rubbed her skin at his as a cat, then shyly set a hand on his penis and rubbed it with inexperienced move. He covered her hand with his and led the way, quickly finding himself supressing the whispers of pleasure. He let go of her hand and she understood the signal, removing the hand herself. Now, it was his turn to explore her points of pleasure; he touched her gently, breasts and Venus alike, and she didn't bother to hold the voice within.

"Let me take you to the highlands," he murmured and she managed a smile. She lay down on the sofa, watching him for a while as he placed himself between her legs and began the labour with his tongue, but she couldn't hold it for long, she closed the eyes, small moans escaping her lips now and then. He waited, he knew the female body well enough to read the signs she was giving, and when he knew she was reaching the peak, he carefully slipped a finger within her, only taking a few moments to discover a certain point, and he nudged it. He felt how the energy within her made a jump, and she gasped, but it wasn't over yet, she had to endure the sweet torture for just a little longer … there!

"Aaagh ..." Half a breath, half a scream, the muscles twitching, nerves weaving around themselves with overload, and then she was still, still but for the heavy breathing, for long moments as he lay down beside her and embraced her, waiting for her to compose herself.

She gave a laugh; he couldn't say he knew her feelings, but his analitical brain presented him with data that after a ecpecially powerful orgasm, the body gets overwhelmed with hormones that resemble opiates, inducing a somewhat drugged, but extremely pleasurable state where the world seemed soft and fuzzy and worries never existed, and soft laughter was more of less the only expression possible. He smiled, proud of himself, but aware that the main part is yet to come. She turned in his embrace and rested her head upon his chest, thoughtfully playing with one of his nipples. He decided against stopping her – she probably wasn't even aware of it. Then, she said dreamily,

"I never felt anything like this before… I just wish it to last, only to last ..." There was near-sadness in her voice.

"It will last," he breathed into her hair. "There are so many things yet to discover for you." He kissed the top of her head and rocked her gently. "Let's make love."

She half-lifted herself on the elbows, so that she could look into his eyes. "Yes," she whispered. "Let's make love."

He started to stand up to find a condom, but she held him back. "It's all right, I won't get pregnant," she said.

"You sure?"

A chuckle. "Yes. I'm sure."

He held her close again, kissed her, wanting to make her comfortable. She slid beneath him and wrapped her legs around him. Her expression tensed again, but she looked determined.

"Just relax," he murmured. He pressed against her insides and she gasped, her breathing and hearthbeat growing faster with pain, but he already felt something tear under the pressure, and her pain was gone. She was so narrow, he moaned with effort as he violently supressed the intense feeling. He moved and now, she was the one to moan.

"Oh, fuck" she whispered as he continued with same refrained intensity, and then louder, "Fuck, fuck … I can't … oh, fuck!" He considered stopping, but she held onto him forcefully, her hips thrusting against him, as if afraid of losing control and already losing it.

"Let go!" he half screamed, and as she did, the slightly changed position tore down both their defences, sending them to an intense heaven.

Minutes passes unnoticed. Consciousness was on a trip to the south. They lay on the sofa wrapped together, as they fell, and senses knew only the warmth between them. Long, long time seemed to pass, but they just didn't want to acknowledge it. The world was too far away.

"Seto?" murmured Ishizu as she regained the feeling of time and space.

"Mm?"

"I should get myself washed. I think your sofa in already bloody."

"It's seen worse. Just a little longer."

Again, moments passed, and he finally let her go, but still unwillingly. He sat on the floor and stared at the drops of virginal blood on the sofa. _Now, it has seen everything,_ he thought. It was probably the most abused piece of furniture in the house and the most often cleansed one as well. It had seen pretty nearly every kind of food he ever had in the fridge, pretty nearly every sexual pose he ever sported, a big lot of blood of different people that Laria brough on … well, not only blood, it was pretty nearly every kind of liquid human body could produce, and he mostly just avoided thinking about it when he sat on it. Then, it served as a hiding place, mostly for certain illegal substances, but sometimes also for Mokuba of even Laria in a mock fight, as a couch fortress, as a … well, his memory failed him, there must have been many other things a white leather sofa could be used for. And he sat there thinking about a piece of furniture, waiting for his no-longer-virginal one-night-stand to return. She came, picked up her panties, and asked if 'his woman' had a stash of her … intimate equipment anywhere in the bathroom. He shook his head.

"I think she keeps them in her own bathroom in her own appartement," he told her. "I wouldn't go there if I were you, she probably isn't asleep yet."

Ishizu checked the clock. "It the middle of the night. Does she always sleeps so late?"

He shook his head again. "No, just when she's unhappy."

Ishizu shook her head violently. "Anyway, could you get them for me? I really feel unpleasant, bleeding like that."

He rose and embraced her. "Does it hurt?"

"No, just … I feel somewhat unhygenical."

He sighed. The idea of facing Laria to get some feminine necessites for the woman he just slept with seemed … bizzare. The awkwardest of situations. The only consolence was that she will probably be in the marihuana heaven, regarding the open balcony he saw when they arrived, but then again, she'll still remember it in the morning. But he had to do something.

"Can you make do with something else? A towel or something?"

She scowled. "I'd rather not."

"You just want to make me go and face her, don't you?"

"It is your destiny."

Now, he was pissed off. She was making him do the impossible, refering to the destiny, and with a completely calm face at that. But it was still the better option than Ishizu going herself. He grumpily got up, pulled the coat and trousers on the bare skin. He just got up from the couch as he remembered another thing.

He bent down and carefully searched the folding between the back and the sitting part of the sofa. There was nothing, so he checked under it, and it was empty as well. He sighed.

Ishizu looked at him questiongly, but he gave no answer. She didn't have to know that he caught Laria stashing her stuff in the sofa just the day before, and if she took it out – whole five gramms of so – she was probably sleeping anyway.

He left up the stairs, nervousness rising.

The light was still on in Laria's apartement, so she was awake. He stopped in front of the door, bracing himself. He knew that her ability to envelop him in a bubble of safety will now work against him, for he can't allow himself to share anything that had happened. That would be just too awkward. He stepped in without knocking, expecting her to be on the balcony or at least not right beyond the door. She was standing in the small anteroom, staring at herself in the mirror. She still had the very same night-gown on that she wore earlier, and all her hair was standing straight with chill. She turned to face him, her eyes brilliantly white and shiny black in the twilight, her stance straight and tense. No strange aroma filled the room – she was sobre, watching herself in the mirror – is that a sign of weakened self-esteem? He could have sworn Laria would never lose it, if any woman on this world.

"Hey there," she said quietly. "What's up?" Not waiting for the answer, she turned and left for her living room, sat on the couch and covered herself with a blanket. He followed her, but didn't sit down.

"Ishizu just asked for the … female equipment," he said awkwardly.

Laria nodded. "I'll get it." She stared at him for some long moments, her expression unreadable. Then, she got up, went to the bathroom and brought back a small bundle, handing it to him.

"Here," she said quietly. Then, she suddenly jumped to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, embraced him warmly, then just as suddenly let go.

"Don't hurt her," she said dryly as she turned away. "You may say I act like a mother towards you, but that's one of the times you should listen. Don't hurt that woman more than you already have." She looked at him across the shoulder, piercing him with those mad glistening eyes, and he suddenly realised she was fighting back the tears. "I listened to some of the things you two talked about, and she has my respect, but she may be more fragile than she looks. And I will hate you for hurting her. You hurt Jade. You even managed to hurt me, even though I didn't think that possible. So, don't hurt her, you selfish, arrogant, egotistic bastard."

Her voice was controlled and emotionless, even as she said the insults, but he could believe every word she said. _She's hurt,_ he thought. _She doesn't want to be hurt, she finds it unfair, and yet, she pains … I can see what this is about, and I want it no more that she does_.He didn't know what to do. He hated what Ishizu called destiny that brought him to that situation. He should just refuse and tell her to use some toilet paper or even cut a towel to some more usable size, but he wanted to appear gentleman and so he stood there watching the woman he knew he will never be able to love the way she loved him. She was sitting on the couch wrapped in the blanket, her back painfully straight, and she stared at him with a defiant face, but the tears were now clearly visible in her eyes.

"I won't hurt her," he said quietly. "I promise." He went to the door and looked back. She returned the stare. "We'll talk in the morning."

She gave a stiff nod. "One more thing," she said. "Stuff that back into the couch, would you? I don't want Mokuba come to wake me up and find it on the table." She miraculously produced a baggie of green substance and threw it at him. He shook his head and put in into the pocket. "One day, Laria, you will start hiding you stuff in your apartement. It's big enough, isn't it?" She smiled wetly and shook her head. "I think I trust you more with it."

He waved goodbye and left, wondering about the mistery of her soul. Who is the woman who can cry and smile at the same person at the same time?

Laria wiped her eyes and sighed. She was so tired, she could fall asleep right there, and pain was coursing her veins, but there was no rest yet. She got up and opened the wardrobe.

"You can get out now," she said.

Yugi climbed out and shook in disgust. "You don't only store clean clothes in there, do you," he said. "It smells like it had seen all your lovers together after a hot night."

"Well … I guess I sometimes just stick something in that I don't want Seto to find," she retorted, looking just slightly embarassed.

"You have an awful lifestyle, judging by the smells. Marihuana, sperm, blood, all possible kinds of dirt ..."

"Don't tease me. I'm in no mood."

He came to her and embraced her carefully for the umpth time that evening. She was way taller than him, even taller than the pharaoh, so he had to stand on his toes to reach her neck even as she bended to receive him. It was an uncomfortable position, but she needed every drop of warmth she could get.

"What am I going to do?" she asked miserably into his hair. "I never knew it could hurt so much to know your beloved brought home someone else."

"I believe you will forget and go on living. You already like Ishizu, I know you do; you are not a person to take offence by the whole situation. The pain will pass." Pharaoh's voice was gentle and soft, his warm arms comfortingly wound around her. She could relax in his embrace, she could forget for a moment, but as he let her go, she was cold and lonely like never before.

She nodded, wiping her eyes again. "Yes, I know it will pass. I know that even now. But it is so hard to believe." She moved to the balcony. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight if I don't get at least a little high. I still have stuff for a joint. Want some? No? Well, just come to the balcony with me then, it is an epitome of loneliness to smoke alone."

She rolled the stuff up and they sat on the balcony, close together against the cold. The smoke curled in the air around them, whipped by the breeze. Laria rocked a little, murmured a melody, hanged her legs in the air, obviously relaxing on purpose.

"Pharaoh … what did you think when I called you before?" she asked suddenly. "I mean … we never hung out like that, but I just thought you might be able to help."

"I thought you were lonely and needed some comfort. I know you don't trust many people, and I was honoured that you called me."

She blew at the smoke to thin it. "You like me. I know you do," she said out of the blue.

He flushed. "Well … you do that to men, Laria. It is not exactly that we can do much about it."

She sighed. "I know. I like you too, Yami. If you weren't exactly Kaiba's greatest rival, and you didn't share a body with the most innocent boy in the world, I'd try my best to seduce you." She pondered a little. "Ehhh … to hell with it. Would you stay the night with me? Just to cuddle and comfort me, and to watch me sleep? No, really, I don't care if you run away when I'm asleep, but I want someone to hold me until then. Pretty please?"

He shook his head. "Temptress, that's what you are. You know I can't do this. And I never knew you made a selection of who do you seduce and whom not."

She gave him an innocent face, just slightly corrupted by the smoke winding from her lips. "I get in less trouble this way. Pretty please with a cherry on top? I won't try anything, I promise! Even I wouldn't temp you like that!"

He closed his eyes and curled his knees to the body. "I believe I fought some hard battles in my time, but what you do to me is way worse. And you even say you won't try it!"

She smiled sweetly now. "It is easy to give in, isn't it?"

His gaze went from tortured to amazed within moments, forgeting the fire within his body completely. "You're doing this on purpose? How?"

She shook her head, and the pressure on him lowered. "Damn, I didn't think you'd notice. No-one has up to now."

"So you are doing this!"

"Yes, I do. Don't give me that eye, it's nothing! I just … take what there is and push it a little further. Only works with basics, like desire, disgust, fear or safety, and only if person actually wants to feel it. It's like making a decision for them. And I don't do it for fun. At least, not often."

Yami shook his head at her. "That's a dangerous art you are using. Magic shouldn't be messed with for fun."

"That's no magic, just a trick my step-mother taught me. And mostly I do it to comfort people, and never to do harm! Kaiba would have had a nervous breakdown by now if it wasn't for the safety I provide!"

He nodded. "I know, Laria. If something is true about you, you don't mean harm. But it may still happen. Can you imagine what Kaiba would do if he ever discovered that? Just for instance?"

She sighed. "Yes, I know. It would take days for him to see that he's not harmed in any way by it, that it even helps."

Yami looked unconvinced. "You know, Laria, I see why you fell for Kaiba. He is the very one person that gave you any challenge in being a bigger self-righteous bastard than you are, but I think you still beat him. You are the one that always thinks best for everyone."

"And you know what is tragic? I'm mostly right."

"But not in this case. You leave other people's feelings alone."

She lowered her gaze. "I never found it harmful in any way. It's not that I'm intruding what they truly feel. I just make it a little stronger."

"Anyway." He held her hand and squeezed it gently. "Trust me. Horrible things happened to people who meddled too far into this. I don't know how I know, but some things are just … clear to me."

She looked at him. "So, are you staying with me or not?"

He gave a laugh. "You don't give up easily, and you did not answer me." His expression grew serious again. "I will, Laria. Just this one night, I'll stand by your side, and I'll leave once you fall asleep."

She extingushed the filter that started burning and stood up. "I'd hug you right now, but I know how I smell, so I'll go brush my teeth first," she said. "See you in bed. And I'm not promising you anything – you would be intruding my decisions if you made me do this."

He rolled his eyes. "All right. But please, be careful, and tell me if you notice anything strange."

***

Kaiba returned to his own living room and handed Ishizu the bundle Laria gave him. He wouldn't be surprised if it contained a painful prank, but it didn't. They got to bed and she curled against him like a child, making him embrace her instinctively. He kissed the top of her head.

"Ishizu?"

"Mm?"

"I just want to know … Why did you decide to do it just like that? No true love, no perfect moment, none of that crap women always chirp about?"

He felt her move, and he knew she was fully awake now. "I come from a quite traditional family. I wasn't supposed to know any man but the one my parents chose for me. By being with you, I broke the rules, I broke free."

He nodded, touching her head with his chin, then kissed her hair again. "Good night," he murmured, finding that he could make up no further questions. It's been a long night. And just before he fell asleep, when dreams were knocking on his eyelids, he thought he heard the lift moving down, making him wonder at it for a moment before the sleep claimed him.


	5. Move on

**Note: **Well … whatever. This chapter is one great mistake, I find it even less plausible than Laria's one, and that was awful.

BTW, If I explicitly ask for a review, will it get me one? It seems that it's common around here. I always believed that posting a story is one great plea for a review.

And as hard as I may try, I can't make the lyrics stand together, the way they should have.

:sigh: Well,, my loyal readers (yes, you three over there, that's you!), there you go with another late chapter. Let it rest in peace.

I'm not going through Disclaimer and Things you might want to know again. You won't believe it, but very little changes since last chapter, there's just some serious violence here.

_Hate  
I'm your hate  
I'm your hate when you want love  
Pay  
Pay the price  
Pay, for nothing's fair_

Metallica – Sad but true

Kaiba awoke with a start, his subconscious checking system registering a change. Finally, he could add, since Ishizu was pretty intensely gone from the room and together wit some of her clothes. She left the jewelry behind, and after a quick scan he also spotted the tights and shoes, so she couldn't have gone far. He got up slowly, got dressed and left the room, following the smell of cofee to the kitchen. He only stopped in the living room to inspect the damage done to the sofa. There were only a few drops of blood on it, nothing irreparirable, though he better find a valid explanation for Mokuba, since he slept over the time to ask the maid to clean it before anyone else got up. He hid Laria's baggie under the sofa, smugly smiling at the image of her looking for it. She always put it somewhere where it could not just dissapear like it could under the poor, by constant abuse corrupted sofa, but it somehow turned up there anyway from time to time.

He stepped into the dining room that was connected to the kitchen without a door, and he heard two female voices talking in a polite, but not cold manner. He stood by the entrance, mostly still hidden, and looked in.

Laria was making her coffee 'the Bosnian way', as she called it, that is, she fought an epic battle against boiling water, and eating a banana at the same time, which was an epic scene by itself. She didn't eat a banana – she deep-throated it in two bites, but these bites could take a while. So, she was fighting against the boiling water, cofee and sugar with her mouth and half a gullet full of banana. Ishizu was sitting at the table, shaking with the supressed laughter. He watched as Laria finally swallowed and then served the cofee, which was when Ishizu finally gave up and laughed. Then they sat in silence and watched each other curiously, perhaps a bit causiously, but without any malice or jealousy. It was the first time he saw them together and he noticed their alikeness again. Same golden skin, dark hair, although Laria's was short and standing all about her head, similar bone structure of the faces, although not so obvious one could mistake them for sisters, and even similar white gowns they wore. But the similarity he could not define the first time he met Ishizu now stood out clearly – their mimic, the way they spoke, the gesture of lifting the cup to the lips – the moves of complete control over the situation, signs of quiet power in them. Laria, the fighter of the present, and Ishizu, the seer of the future, but most of all, two sensible women who obviously decided that one man in their lives won't stand in way of a potential friendship.

_And I've had them both_, he thought, adding another dimension to his ego.

"I heard it was your first time yesterday evening," Laria said without warning, and Ishizu nearly choked on her coffee.

"So he told you," she said then.

Laria shook her head. "Actually, I was a little eavesdropping. No matter, I left when you two stopped talking."

Ishizu could only shake her head.

"And? How was it?"

Ishizu seemed to think about it. "Intense," she said. "I didn't hurt as much as I feared it would, in fact, it only did in the beginning. Once he was in, it was just … kind of a too much to bear."

Laria nodded. "It was similar with me, I remember. It was so much I only months later found names for some of the things I felt, and nearly all of them are derived from the word 'orgasm'"

Both women chuckled. "I don't know … when he did it by tongue, ..." began Ishizu, but Laria broke into her by a "What?! He did what?! He never does it with me!"

Ishizu looked confused. "I don't know, he seemed pretty at home with it. And what I felt then was completely different … somewhat more phisical, I could feel my muscles twitching, while with him inside me, it was more … It was nearly alike to when I go to a deep trance to forsee something far away, and my body fills with energy, and my nerves feel like they are curling. That, only way stronger and completely out of control."

"Hm? That I don't know what you are talking about, but I guess you liked it."

A nod. "I did."

They seemed to confide in their cups again, before Ishizu nearly timidly asked, "So … you don't hate me for it, do you?"

Laria didn't answer imediately. Then, she said: "I can't sincerely say that. I respect you and I don't count you an unpleasant person, I even quite like talking to you, but … I can't say I don't hate you for what you did, same as I can't say that I'm not hurt. But I won't make you any problems with that. I'd way rather be you friend than your enemy."

Ishizu studied her thoughtfully. "You love him, don't you?"

Laria gave a stiff nod. "I hate myself for it, I once promised myself I'll never be so stupid to fall in love with someone that will never love me back, and I try to control it, but sometimes … like yesterday … I just can't. He says I act like a mother, but I just care for him. I've never met a man that would know what's good for him, but they all act as if they know best. And then I feel guilty and I try to stop caring, only to feel guilty because I see him live … well, like a workacholic business man, and I know that's bad for him. And then, he bellows at me again. I don't know, if I told him I do it because I love him, I fear he would … let me go. He doesn't love me, I know it, and at some point we said we are only friends, but we can still sleep together, and that is a good relationship, but I fear he would think that I want him to, I don't know, tell the public about me and then latter marry me and stuff, and I don't want it, I just want him to know that I'll always be there for him, that I'll support him, no matter what happens, that I'll always love him … no, that sounded just too pathetic. I hope you understand, I had to get it out sometime."

Ishizu gave a small smile. "I think I do. You've never been in love before, have you?"

Laria shrugged. "I don't think so. I really liked my step-brother, he was my first boyfriend, and I got quite attached to some other guys, but to be in love … No, I don't think so."

"And even now, you have such a rational approach to it."

"You call that rational? I feel like falling apart for what I feel!"

"You sure do. But you still use your reason to control what you do, even though you hurt yourself this way. You truly are selfless in the way you try to treat Seto."

Laria stared at her coffee. "I don't feel this way. I feel selfish. Love is always selfish. It doesn't approve of sharing a person with others."

"But you allow it anyway."

"Yes, I allow it, because I'm also selfish enough to still want for more than one man, even though I'm in love, and it just wouldn't be fair to try to prevent him doing the same."

"You have an unusual philosophy in life."

"Probably true. I will only ever love one man, I think, but that won't prevent me from desiring some others, just because I can, and it would be boring having sex just with one. But no man will ever be able to understand that, they just don't work this way. Either they never fall in love for more than a short time, or they are faithful for all eternity. Oh, and some can never fall in love, only experiment with it. Like Kaiba does. I think he might be gay."

Ishizu chocked again. "Are you trying to kill me with that coffee? What would make you think he's gay?"

_I'd like to know that as well,_ Kaiba thought, still safely hidden behind the entrance.

"Well … he never fell in love for a woman that I'd know about. He might have had a crush on Jade, I think, or perhaps he was just too drunk to be certain how they ever got together. I saw him that night and I think the latter is closer to the truth. Anyway, she made him hate her within a month or two."

"Umm … Jade?"

"Yes, his first lover. You don't know about her? She was all over the newspapers, a classy whore that dated him for about three years before I broke in and he finally saw the relationship leads nowhere."

"You made him leave a woman?"

"No, he did it himself, I just happened to return to him after a few rough months and asked to stay, since I had nowhere to go."

"So you knew him even before that."

"I first met him when he was ten, then when he got together with that bitch, I was fourteen then, and we became friends again when I was sixteen, and he was nineteen, and he hated her quite badly then. A few months later, I … got into trouble that lasted nearly a year, and only when I returned, he finally broke up with her. We became lovers after thet match he lost against Yugi, a month or so later. But he always hid me from the public. I wonder how he managed to conceal the fact that I live in the same building as he does, and for such a long time as well. But what I wanted to say was that the only person I know he loves is his brother."

"That's no reason to think he's gay. He obviously has a desire for women."

"He has a desire, but not love. And look at that relationship with Yugi – or I should say, tha pharaoh, since I don't think he met Yugi exactly often. I mean, he pretends to hate him, because pharaoh hurt his ego, but I think he's just telling himself that so that he wouldn't need to deal with what happens otherwise. He's in awe of his skills, that's for sure. I mean, I can win against Kaiba as well, but I'll never win his respect in this, because I play somewhat by chance, but Yugi is simply better. Kaiba has always been resenting that feeling of being inferior in general. He can't just give in to the fact that he likes his greatest opponent."

"Now that's a wild guess."

Laria grinned. "Well, it is. But not as wild as you might think. He still trusts me with some things he doesn't tell anyone else, and I dare say I know him."

"Well, suit yourself."

A moment of silence passed, and then Laria said, "Listen, I think he'll be getting up sometime now," and she leaned towards Ishizu and whispered something conspiratorically. Ishizu giggled – an unexpected sound from her, and then said, "Yeah, let's do this, I wonder what he'll do!"

Kaiba couldn't help himself any more. He stepped inside and asked, "What will I do if what?"

They looked startled for a moment, then Laria came at him with full force, embracing and kissing him fully, then, before he could react, Ishizu attacked him as well. Their lips tasted differently, even though they both drank coffee; Laria's taste was fresh, it always made him think of a spring forest on a windy day, and her kiss was wild, nearly violent, but Ishizu's was soft and full, it reminded of her perfume from the previous night, like a blossom from a royal garden. Just as different as they were alike moments before, one light and girly, the other mature and wise. His head spun for a moment, leaving him completely helpless, and he heard both women giggle. He went to the cooker to hide the blush, and poured himself a cup of coffee. _That was some plot, _he thought. They seemed to decide to share him equally, and he wasn't certain that was fine by him.

He sat down at the table. The situation gained some new dimensions of awkwardess. They sat in silence for some moments and then Ishizu got up.

"You're just not funny. You should at least try to look embarrased," Laria said to Kaiba at the very same moment. Ishizu smiled.

"I think you have s thing or two to patch up," she said. "I'll get dressed." And gone she was.

Laria eyed him gravely. "Something tells me you heard everything we talked about."

He could only nod at that.

"I think you should decide for yourself whether you're gay or not. In every case, I won't stop loving you. Just so that you know."

He shook his head. "I don't think it that simple, Laria."

"No? If I make it simple, one can deal with it. So, don't bother too much."

He gave her a piercing gaze. "Laria, me being gay is one of the most ridiculus ideas I ever heard, and being attracted to Yugi is even worse, so just zip it. And I can't have you in love with me. It is just unpractical. I live for my job, and I have a tournament to organize, and you are just a nuisance in this moment. You have your own job to do. I don't need your advice in any matter."

She looked at him solemnly. "So, famous Seto Kaiba finally decided to turn blind even on the only friend he ever had. I understand you're upset about what I said, anyone would be, but that doesn't give you the right to treat me like a whore you bought because she was useful. Who will you be when if I go now?"

"A succesful business man with no troubles hanging about his neck."

"So, this is it, I guess." It wasn't the very same sentence she said the last time he insulted her this badly, and he felt the meaning changed as well. Then, she left him alone. He wanted her to leave him alone. He couldn't afford her feelings, he couldn't allow her sharp observing mind see things that weren't there, he couldn't have her around any longer. He couldn't allow her to be there if she ever turned out to be right, and she turned out to be right so often in their arguments …

She was regarding him, and her face was an open book for once. Hurt, shock, anger, and most of all, pity. She got up slowly and came to him, so close to him, and bent to his sitting height. She looked into his eyes, uncomfortably close, her hands somehow appearing to caress the back of his neck. He was acutely aware of the change in her. Two years earlier, she was a careless girl, she lost her parents, but not the safety of her home, she was used to trusting people, she believed the people to be basically good. But now, she was a refugee in his house, and he was throwing her out. He saw a glint in her eyes, a glint of insanity. Once upon a time, she was someone else, tough, but not yet wounded so deeply and paining into insanity. He thought she'd kiss him, but what happened was way worse. She pulled back and slapped him with all her strenght, so forcefully that his head was spun sideways, he was pulled off the chair to the ground, and she kicked him with the bare feet, with full power directly into the stomach. He threw up the coffee as the next kick landed in his face. Then, she stood back. He heard her supressing sobs.

"Do you want me to leave you?" she asked, her voice shockingly stable. "Do you want me to go and never return, to leave you like that, like a crawling worm, a pitiful creature that never knew love, never knew warmth? Do you want your heart turned to stone and the blood to ice, and live your life in shadow? I don't think that's what you want, Seto Kaiba. You may not want me to love you, for it_ is_ a nuisance, but you still need a presence of somebody who doesn't drive you mad by being there. Get up. Get up, I said!"

Her voice carried power that he never heard before. He lifted himself, dizzy by the force of the fall and the pain of her strikes, slowly growing aware that she just beat him up, and fury arose in him. He was humiliated. Pissed off. He didn't think anymore. He leaped at her like a panther, he wanted to make her pay for all the pain, all the defeats she ever brought upon him, and he pinned her down, then struck at her face. He was a good fighter, he knew where to hit just as well as she did. Her nose started bleeding, there was blood, blood all over the place, his blood and her blood, and she clawed and bit and kicked, throwing him over again, then struck at his neck, at his nose, points she knew to be sensitive, only to receive more fury in return. He threw her at the table only to break it, and found himself beaten with one of its legs. They wrestled through the ruins, only to leave more ruins behind, but they wouldn't stop, not to the last drop of blood, not to the last broken bone. He was finding himself at disadvantage for having lower pain tolerance – Laria felt nothing when in a heat of the fight. He threw her down and she caught herself clumsily, he even heard the bones crack, he reached for her throat – and the next he knew he had her knee in the ribcage. He knew some of his ribs were broken even before that, making his breathing hurt, and his sight was distorted by blood dripping from just as painful a wound on the forehead. Laria struck again, and he knew his body will fail him soon. If only he managed to pin her down again, the way he had her before … she wouldn't escape this time … and her pretty face would be changed into a bloody pulp … She struck at his head, and he noticed her last few punches were all made by right arm where she used them both equaly before. She was vulnerable to the left … he lowered himself, allowed her a moment of rest, long enough for her to mouth a "what?", then went at her with full force, tricking her to make a defensive move to the right, then aimed for her exposed left side.

"Uuuuuuhhhhhhhh …"

She was so fast, he was flying before his brain caught up with what happened. She used the momentum of the turn back to increase the force of the punch, and just as he discovered what happened, his head connected to the window. He half-felt, half-heard glass break, his back hit the window sill, and then … he was floating.

He saw his broken body collaps to the floor, and he heard Laria cry, "Seto! Seto … are you all right?" She flew over to his body, she pressed at the cuts and seemed relieved for the shortest moment, before she touched his back. He saw tears down her cheaks, she was sobbing uncontrolably, but she set out to treat his wounds.

_She didn't mean this to happen … I pushed her over the edge, so she punched me, but after that, she was only defending herself … What have I done to her?_

His soul cried, and he dissolved into darkness.

"Big brother?"

He was lying on the floor. He didn't remember falling. He sensed sticky wetness and sharp pieces under bare hands. He then remembered – Laria threw him at the window, showering them both with glass. Then, all was blank. But the fury was gone, and he suddenly felt like crying.

He carefully moved, trying his limbs. No, none new broken bones, only the well-known pain in the chest. But the eyes wouldn't open, and his head was spinning too hard to lift it.

"He'll be fine. I know how hard I strike." Laria's voice, slightly strangled. He remembered getting hold of her throat once.

"What did you do to him?" Mokuba sounded like crying.

"I beat him up. He pretty much beat me as well, but he was the one to lose consciouseness. I hoped he would cool down before it would come to that, but he had an awful lot to throw at me, it seems."

"So, it happened." Ishizu now, in a gentle, sad voice.

"Ishizu, do me a favor and call the ambulance. I think my arm is broken, and Kaiba is still out cold."

He felt small satisfaction. So her arm actually broke when she fell on it.

"You don't look half beaten up." Mokuba again.

"Yes, I stopped my bleeding nose already, there's enough adrenaline in my veins to kill a rhino so I don't feel pain, and the bruises will only show up in an hour or so. I'd be happy to be in bed with a strong painkiller before that happens." Her voice was so hard, and she spoke quickly, gasping too often. He body must be in a way worse shape than she was ready to admit.

"Why did you have to do it so … brutally?" asked Ishizu, obviously shaken.

"I don't think he would ever cool down if I didn't. Sometimes, drastic measures must be taken."

He heard the footsteps leaving.

"Mokuba … I think your breakfast will have to wait."

His little brother got the hint and left as well.

He heard the water, then felt a gentle, cool touch of a soaking wet cloth on the forehead.

"I know you're awake," Laira said quietly, giving up to the pained tremor she had been supressing. "I saw you move. I'm sorry for what I did, I'm sorry for what I said before. I wish it could end some other way, but sometimes, you just don't listen."

He tried the voice and found that he could use it.

"I hate what you did, and I hate what you said," he croaked. "But I can't hate you." It was true. Now that all was over, the adrenaline leaving his blood, the panic retreating, things seemed clearer. It would be stupid to throw away years of friendship and love-making for a few words, and he saw that the pain was needed to clear his head. She would be far gone before he would see his mistake otherwise, and he would be too proud to call her back. And anyway, the feeling of safety was back now, it was in every move of the cloth across his face.

"Laria … what's with my eyes?"

She sounded worried. "Nothing. The left one is slightly bruised, that's where I hit you the first time, but the right one looks completely fine."

"I can't open them. And my head is spinning so hard."

He felt the cloth move gently across the eyes. "Your head has seen better times. But the eyes are I think just glued together with blood. I didn't think it could dry so quickly." She cleaned them, and he carefully looked up. The image was spinning slightly as well, but not too bad. He focused on Laria. She truly didn't look too bad, if one didn't count blood-encrusted hair, but her expression was tense and she had left arm set onto her lap while only working with the right.

"You're in pain."

"It's nothing. You're in a way worse shape." She bent down and gently kissed his lips. "I truly meant it, you know. I love you."

He managed a bitter smile. "You also meant that you think I'm gay," he said. "But I don't think I should send you away. You're still my friend."

She squeezed his hand. "So, we're back where we started. Friends and lovers."

"No, we moved on." He closed his eyes again. He felt the truth in his words. What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. They survived their first big fight. Their bond expanded.

The sirens of the ambulance pulled near. When they came, they found a woman, covered in blood, holding a hand of just as bloodied unconscious man, smiling fondly at him, and they heard her say, "Yes. We moved on."

***

He awoke in the hospital. Laria was at the mirror, staring at her reflection.

"The news got out, about us," she said, noticing his move in the reflection. "There is a swarm of journalist down at the reception hall. I told the nurse to keep them at bay. I'm not answering a single question and getting a single photo until I can get my looks changed."

He set his head back to the pillow. "I can't think," he moaned.

"I can believe you that one. You had a minor brain concussion, some ugly cuts on the head and two broken ribs. They filled you with a painkiller, so you are completely senseless."

He regarded her. She was pale and sickly looking, her arm was nearly completely covered in plaster, her head so wrapped it looked twice its size.

"You look awful."

"No shit. I only awoke form narcose about half an hour ago. My arm needed some surgery."

He lifted his brows and quickly lowered them again as he felt the wound on the forehead. "How long was I out?"

"Most of the day. I waited for about two hours before they decided it was safe to transport us to your medical team, and then they put me to sleep. I had no idea how long it took until I awoke – the surgery must have lasted for hours, and my hand wasn't exactly, I don't know, turned inside ot or growing at the wrong place on the body. They told me nothing about it, however, so I guess it was bad. And they stiched my head when they were about it. Seven stiches. I hope I'll be fine by next month."

He turned at the window, watching the reddening sky. Slowly he grew aware of a buzzing sound he could not find the sorce of, and the sky gave no answer. No plane. Nothing. Then, he remembered.

"Laria? You said something about the journalists?"

"Yes, I did. They are buzzing all over the reception hall, giving hard time to the staff there."

He moaned. "Great." He turned to her. "Why couldn't you call my medic team right away? It would have saved us a big lot of trouble. Did you tell them anything?"

She looked embarrased. "I thought of it just a little too late. I grew up with the public health service, so it was the first thing to cross my mind. And all I told them was that we had a fight and that I live in one of your appartemnts. Ishizu got out as Mokuba's nanny, I think she stayed with him. But gossip started anyway, and it's bad. The stories vary from me being a psychotic ex-fan that tried to murder you and then fled the scene, to me defending you from unknown attackers, nearly losing my life as well. That we are lovers, that's become a fact. But I can't risk having my photos all over the media. I could be recognised."

It took him a few moments to remember that she was supposed to be dead for the underworld.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, slight tremor to her voice. "I don't know if we are … ready to have an … open relationship. All this time, you kept me covered, and I liked it this way. I don't want to give stupid interviews and food advice and I don't know what shit that your woman would be supposed to do. And I don't want to act a happy couple, we're everything but that, and I don't want to give up being a regular slut when I go clubbing – it's just too fun to see those men drolling, and ..."

"All right, I see," he sighed. "And there are other trouble. Do you even know how to handle a formal event? Ever had a course in etiquette?"

"We covered basics at school … "

"Well, let me be more specific then. If you got nine different pieces of cutlery, would you know how to eat properly?"

She looked at him blankly. "Nine? No, that's a bit much for me. Five, I could do. Spoon, fork, knife, dessert spoon and desset fork. What are the remaining four? You don't get pieces for serving food from the plates, right?"

He regarded her gravely. "No, Laria, I meant nine different spoons for instance. And you obviously don't know a thing in this direction."

She looked incredoulous. "Nine different spoons? Why would anyone in this world need nine spoons for one meal? This is just … uneconomical."

He stared at the ceiling again. "Welcome to the world of rich and famous, baby."

She came to his bed now. "I don't want to be rich and famous, I just want to take my lessons, to work, and pehaps to fuck you in the evening. Can't we just say it was a one night stand and you don't even know my name?"

"Yeah, so I'll be called horny for the rest of my life. You see, Laria, the people who read those news are mainly stupid. They presume that if one thing happened once, it must have happened before and will happen again. I can't afford to be known to have one nigh stands."

"You still took Ishizu to the Aristocat," she groaned. "The nurse showed me the picture of you two getting into the car in one of those papers, but it seems I managed to override this one. They'll only wonder about it when they run out of other material."

He nodded. "I don't think we can hide anymore. No-one is going to believe that we're just friends and that we just got a little carried away in a mock fight." He tried to think and found that it hurt. "How long can we stay here without being interrupted? When will I be able to get to my work?"

"I've been intending to stay at least until I get my stitches removed. Perhaps even a day or two longer – depends what I can do about my looks in the meantime." She scratched her wrapped-up head. "They shaved nearly whole my head. I think a wig is best option for the moment, so I'll ask for a catalogue or something."

She moved to the mirror again and looked at her reflection sadly. "I think I should get a plastic operation while I'm here as well. My face is quite memorable. But I can't decide what to change. I mean, I could live with a bit smaller lips, wider eyes and gentler chin, and of course the brows would have to go to half-size. But my face is defined by my bone-structure – cheek bones and jaw, and that I can't change. Pehaps I should go Muslim and never show my face in public."

He lifted himself heroically and stared at her. "Don't do that, you have a beautiful face," he said sincerely.

She gave a bitter laugh. "Do you think I find that a pleasant thought, that I must change my features? I like my face as well, but I like my life better."

"No, I meant, don't cover it." He sighed and lied down again, exhausted by the small effort. "About operations, I don't have a plastic surgeon here. And I think you should wait. It is a big decision."

She shook her head. "If I wait, everyone will notice. No, if at all, it must be done right away."

"Listen, Laria, up to now you've been calmly walking all about the city, even at night and even through the less safe parts. The wig should keep your identity safe."

She stepped to his bed and carefully embraced him with unharmed arm. "You're probably right," she murmured. "I'm nervous. I hate being known all around, to the people I can't look into the eyes. Up to now, I always had a computer between us when such things happened."

He embraced her back. "We have at least a week here to plan what to do, I don't think they'll release me sooner. Perhaps I'll manage to get some work done anyway. We shall prepare you a bio, a report to what have happened and … ehhh … find some explanation to everyone that will volunteer that they slept to you, they are bound to turn up. Then, we'll organize a press conference and tell them that we forbid any gossip around us. I'll have to sue a few of them, and then, we'll have peace."

She nodded into his shoulder. "Sleep now," she said. "Tomorrow, you'll feel better, you're not quite yourself today, I think. You said I was beautiful, and you began simplifying things."

"I am not quite myself, then," he agreed, and closed his eyes. He was faintly aware of the nurse quietly telling Laria to get back to bed, what has she been doing out of it anyway, and then he slept.

***

Laria checked her appearance for the last time and gave a sigh. The woman on the other side of the glass was nothing like the young student with problematic past that she was even a month ago, when she got her plaster removed. Her hair was light blonde, nearly white, striped with darker locks, and it fell gently against the skull. No more indominable standing around that was her trademark since she was old enough to decide it herself. Her face suffered some minor corrections – her lips lost some of their original fullness, her eyebrows were thinner and also dyed to a lighter color, and folding of her eye-lids was diferent. The plastic surgeon assured her that none of the muscles in the face were harmed, so she could carry on her usual mimic, but that changed during the etiquette course. She had to learn to look proper, and that included facial expressionism. She suspected that she'd forever suffer nightmares staring cutlery, napkins and stiff upper lip.

Then, hardly a muscle remained on her body. Doctors forced her into complete inactivity due to injuries, and Kaiba filled her spare time with study. She felt as if it wasn't her body any more. She was always slim, hard, muscular, but now she felt like a walking bag of fat, despite the fact that she actually lost weight. The only compartement where she actually liked the changes was her wardrobe. Despite her contradiction ("This is my problem, not yours! I can pay for my own clothes!") Kaiba gave her money to buy or get made some nice formal business clothes, evening gowns and even every-day stuff like jeans, and sent her shopping. She took care that some of the street-punk spirit remained in what she wore. Her elegant stripped pants were ornated with chains. Her extremely expensive designer jewelry was steel. Her fancy evening gown looked torn at the side, and it was very revealing anyway. Kaiba shook his head, but he couldn't prevent her from trying to preserve her spirit. She was no lady and she will never be, however hard he may try. Regardless, he also payed for her hair-do and plastic operations, and stated that he would continue doing so, because after all, it was his best interest to keep her alive. Laria suspected he just liked the changes she made, and that didn't make her feel better. She was unhappy for the first time in her life. She hated hiding behind the mask that her body had become.

But however hard she hated it, the whole farce actually kept her covered. Every week in those last few months, journalists found a new woman who they proclaimed to be the Kaiba's lover that brought him to the hospital. Most days, she only sneaked from her appartement through last door or sometimes even a window, then went about her usual day unnoticed. Some time in the evening, she added that day's part of the make-over, and she was constantly looking for hidden cameras. But now, hiding time was over. She will step to the stage as Kaiba's official companion. That was the part that she found even harder to face. Living a lie for people she cared nothing for. Kaiba assured her that it will only be this one time, because she must make a good first impression. After that, she should just avoid getting caught with a load of illegal substances on her, but she will be able to live more or less the same way as she did before.

She turned from the mirror and stepped from the room. It was a situation where drastic measures must be taken, and she preferred to do this head-on.

She came to the conference room and took her seat at the front. She allowed the technician to adapt her microphone. Some moments later, Seto sat down next to her. She gave him a small smile, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly. That surprised her – they hardly met since they were released from the hospital, and he was cold towards her all this time, his feelings obviously still carrying the weight of what she said and what she did. Even at the hospital, after the painkillers wore off, he mostly talked about the changes that she must endure and the stories they made up to be released to the public. After that … she disliked thinking about it. She met a few suspicious women near his appartement and one even in his kitchen. She gave her the pan she'd been looking for, and left her there.

"Just don't screw up," Seto told her quietly.

"Same to you," she answered.

Then, the door opened and reporters plunged in, taking seats, making a lot of noise and taking photos all over. She smiled the way she was taught to and waited.

"Welcome. Before we get started, I would like to make one thing clear. I want things finished here and now,"Kaiba told the present coldly. "I won't hesitate to sue any stalker I find from now on. Now, ask the questions."

No formal beginning. No time to prepare. They presented a slightly modified Laria's bio and a short summary of their relationship, decisively arguing that they had been dating for a long time, not only two months as some previous reports stated, gave a report on what happened that fateful fighting day (of course it excluded Ishizu – she was just a custos at the museum, truly happy to be this way), answered innumerable questions of questionable propriety and finally, responded to many calls of men who stated they slept to Laria even during last six months.

"I only admit to having sex to six other men since I moved to Kaiba's appartement," she said, without even wincing. "I won't give names. To the rest of them – you wish." Kaiba shot her a warning glance. There were four of them the last time he checked, and she wasn't supposed to state this so clearly. It just wasn't what the public considered as 'right'.

"I don't care how many other men she slept with as long as she has sex to me more often than to any of them, and I would find her libido a matter of national security if she managed that," he said finally, annoyed, as the reporters stared at him lustily. Statement later appeared among the legendary statements of the year, which wasn't planned as well, but somehow he felt he owed Laria that much. They kissed for the cameras and left.

It was already late when Kaiba got home that night. He stepped in, checked on Mokuba – sound asleep – then came to the living room and noticed the open balcony door at about the same moment as the distinctive smell reached his nostrils.

Laria was sitting there, banging her legs in the air, smoke curling around her. She was only wearing her old night gown, the unadorned silk one, her hair slowly returning to a more natural state of messiness, her eyes brilliantly white and shiny black in the twilight of the city at night. She looked at him across her shoulder, and waved a hand invitingly. He came to her with a sigh.

"What do you think you are doing? What if Mokuba woke up?" he hissed at her.

She shrugged. "I can't say I care at the moment. He never woke up the whole time I've been living here, I don't find the chance too threatening." She tapped the place next to her for him to sit down.

"Tomorrow, I have to face the world I created today. Do you think I will like it?" she said, facing the scene straight before her.

He sat down. "I don't know," he said, his voice harsher than he intended. "You shouldn't let the world of public oppinion influence you too much. You never cared about it. Just go on living."

She blew the smoke out, pondering. "You still act angry at me," she said softly. "Can't you just let go of what I said or what I feel? It makes no difference now, and it's two months past."

He stared at the point that she was staring at as well, wondering what made it so special, then reached for the burning roll in her hand. She handed it over, smiling wryly.

"And what if Mokuba wakes up?"

"He won't wake up."

He smoked slowly, well aware of the threatening coughing strike, and stared at that fateful point in the middle distance.

"I'm not sure, Laria. I know there is no actual reason to be angry with you, but … I feel that I should care more for you. I feel I owe you the same feeling you are giving me, but I just don't feel this way, or perhaps, love is grossly overestimated."

She nodded. "Give me that thing back." She inhaled deeply, then continued through the smoke. "Love is certainly not overestimated, Seto. If you don't feel it, you just don't feel it, but you should not feel that you must. I ask nothing of you. If you sent me away, I'd go, and with time, you'd slip to oblivion the way that things do with me. In the situation given, I'd be happy to see your trust in me and your desire to be with me, but I ask nothing. There is no pain in me left for you."

He shook his head. "Now, you pain me to hear you say this. You are still the person I probably care most for. Enough to allow you smoke marihuana in my appartement." She smiled, handing the roll back to him. "But what I wanted to say was … want it of not, you are now my woman. Mokuba loves you as an irresponsible older sister. We could peacefully live here, both of us, there's space enough."

She looked at him suspiciously. "Perhaps I should keep that stuff to myself. You go all sappy when you smoke it."

He shook his head. "I'd tell you this one way or another, though this did make it easier to mouth. So, ready to be my room-mate?"

She smiled. "Of course I'd be your room mate. I love you, Seto. Sometimes, I just have to say it." She paused. "So, you are no longer angry at anything that I said."

He looked at her, though his vision had some trouble finding the target. "Well … I guess I forgive you. But you gave me quite some unpleasant thoughts."

"You watched other men, didn't you?"

He shrugged. "Yes, I did. I even tried to look at them the way you would, oblivious to the social stigma it carried, but I can't do that, for some reason. Or perhaps, I just never found one that would give me that mind-crushing desire that you or … some other women induce." He pondered for a moment or two.

"You said you've been to a woman. How did that feel like?"

"Hard to describe. It was gentler than anything I ever did with men, but not quite as satisfying. Women are beautiful creatures to my eyes and it is a great experience to explore one with hands and tongue, and when I had that afair, I wondered for a while whether this is it, wherther I will find no man caring enough for me, but I soon discovered that I like cock just too much. So, I'm hardly a bisexual. Women are nice only on a short term. But that all helps you none, does it?"

He shook his head. "Sometimes, I think forgetting all about it would be the best option, but then I hear you voice, and it seems you say again … 'he never loved a woman' … and I feel even more that I should love you, and I can't. Your words torture me."

She shrugged. "Well, I say you smoke some more, then we go and have sex. I'm not too good with emotional advice, because in my case the old 'it will pass' always works. You will have to deal with it yourself." Then, she rubbed at him like a cat and pressed a kiss at his cheek. It took him a moment to notice the slight difference in her kiss that he didn't yet spot – the surgeon with part of her lips also removed the scar that remained in her mouth where he bit her the first time they were together. In a way, it felt like she no longer belonged to him, not carrying any mark of his, but that could be changed. He extinguished the joint and stood up.

"What if we do it right away?" he whispered, and she knocked him over immediately.

"Most certainly," she answered into his ear. "Right here, right now." So they made love on the balcony high in the air, where no balcony is even supposed to exist, and it quite truly felt like flying.

It felt like hours later when they got to bed together. Laria curled up at the edge, obviously uncertain what to do. They never actually slept in the same bed before – she nearly always went back to her appartement, and if she didn't, it was mainly because she just fell asleep during the after-sex cuddling, and he always carried her to the couch then. She knew he disliked the signs of affection like just sitting together in a hug, so she presumed that he won't want to sleep with her in his arms, but he surprised her, gently pulling her to him and kissing the back of her neck.

She turned to him and returned the kiss, then curled at his side. He held he gently, the soft form, relaxed in sleep. _Is that what I want?_ he asked himself. _To share my life with this woman?_ Laria moved slightly and rubbed against his chest. He smiled before he could stop himself, and the thought _Yes!_ occurred just as unexpectedly.

_But I don't love her,_ he tried to argue. _Does that matter? The life without her in it would still be dull. And not to mention sexless._

***

"Care to participate?" Kaiba asked Laria when he finished the list of invitees to the tournament. "I can sneak you in, if you want it, and it would be a nice twist if we got to fight in the finals. At least, it would silence all those mad journalists that wonder aloud what's so special about you."

"You don't wan to lose the finals, do you?"

"I'll have the three Egiptian god monsters by then. You won't stand a chance!"

"If I get to the finals, I'll have to have fought them before – god, that was some sentence to say. They can be beaten. Besides, Yugi will win anyway. I can't beat him all I try … well, almost all I try, and some methods are best kept private. I don't care to be the second. I won't participate."

Kaiba narrowed his eyes at her. She only knew one meaning of 'private methods', and he decided to be certain she didn't mean it. She surely wouldn't do_ that,_ right?

"Suit yourself. One opponent less on my list."

She shook her head at him. He was so determined to win that he didn't bother to survey the actual situation. He was certainly still one of the best duellists in the world, but he should cut that desire to be the best if he actually intended to succeed.

_Not everyone forgets the way that I do, _she thought. _I don't want to participate, because there will be too much to see. Let me see you duel, Kaiba. Let the tournament begin._


End file.
